Pack Animals
by ZakuroU
Summary: A mission to the frigid north goes terribly wrong, leaving Roy gravely wounded and Edward and Riza without their greatest weapons. Now locked up in the hands of rebels, they have no idea how to escape or what lies in wait for them. And how can they possibly hope to break out when Roy can hardly walk for the pain? Parental!RoyEd, Royai, T for mild violence and swearing.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, readers! Now, anyone who's read 'All is One' by yours truly, don't bother reading this. The title sounds familiar, eh? That's because this story was previously posted as a chapter of that story. I then re-thought it, and decided it was too long for a one-shot and gave it it's own story. This is it, 'kay? If you haven't read 'All is One', keep going and review, please!**

**You see those? * ** Those little asterix looking things? *** * Those are the Armstrong sparkles of censorship**. They cover up all the naughty ** words that Ed and Roy say, so I borrowed them from Major Muscles*. Because every * Fullmetal fan knows that courteousness, * politeness and manners (amongst others**) have been passed down the Armstrong* line for generations. These ** qualities, apparently have not *** been passed down the Mustang and especially not Elric (Ed's side anyway*; Al and Trisha are * a lot less swear-y than he) lines, so their bad* words must be sparkle*ified. We thank Major Arm**strong for kindly donating his * censorship sparkles. ** *** * * (However annoying they may f****** well be.)**

* * *

_Open your eyes._

Every movement is agony.

I can't feel anything anymore. Just pain; white hot, searing, blazing, blinding, tearing pain. Where the hell am I?

I don't know. I can't remember.

_Open your eyes._

Every breath hurts. I can feel my heart beating. I can't see a thing. My mouth is dry. Throat's like sandpaper. No, like sand. Like a desert. Pain. Am I dead? Is this hell? No, it can't be hell. I'm not dead… Well, I'm pretty sure I'm not. If I am dead, then this is probably hell. What happened? _Where am I?_

_Open your eyes._

Who are you? Why are you talking to me? Do you know where we are? Why does it hurt so much? Can you…help me?

_Open your eyes._

I can't. I don't know where they are. I can't feel them. I can try but I don't know how. I don't know where anything is. Only pain.

_Open your eyes._

I tried. I tried and I can't. I just…can't. I don't know where my eyes even are; none of my body is working. I can't move. Why won't you tell me who you are? Do I know you? Did you do this to me? _Where am I?!_

_Open your eyes._

I can't! It's no use! There's no point in telling me! Ow! Why… Why do I hurt like this? Why does _everything _hurt? I can't tell. Did I get in a fight? I don't know. Did I get kidnapped? I can't remember. Why don't I know these things? I can't remember. Why can't I remember? I don't know.

_Open your eyes. Please, Roy, _please _open your eyes._

Fine! Whatever! If it'll make you happy, whoever the hell you are!

* * *

"YIIAAAARRGHHK! Kahack…!" I let out a cry of pain, feeling a stab at the back of my head as I force my eyes open on blinding vision. "D-da…damn…"

Panting, I close my eyes again and bite down on my lip. Dammit, _dammit_, it hurts. Everything hurts.

_Hurts like frikkin' hell._

"Colonel? Colonel!"

I clench my fists to try and brace myself against the endless waves of pain, but to no avail. Every movement creates it's own agony, rippling across my body like waves in a pond.

I have no idea where I am or how I got here. Everything is a blur. I can remember being in my office, filing paperwork. I can remember being sent out on a mission up north. I can remember trekking through a blizzard.

And then it all fades into white.

White pain, that is. Everything, pain, everywhere. Want a description?

Well, my head's about to burst with thumping, smashing beats of it, my chest is tight to the point of sharp, stabbing pains, my skin stings and burns like fury, my stomach feels like I've swallowed caltrops and then been socked repeatedly in the gut, my feet ache as if I've been walking non stop for miles and miles, my mouth, nose and throat _burn like something straight from the devil himself_, and I'm not even going to _start_ trying to tell you what my sides feel like.

I suspect at least a couple of broken ribs.

"Colonel? Are you awake?"

"Nnghh…" I try to speak through gritted teeth, but all that comes out is a grunt of effort as I try not to scream again. "Kyeah."

"Are… Are you alright?"

There's a sharp intake of breath on my part as I give an involuntary twitch and manage to gasp out. "Hell yeah. Never better."

"Sarcasm intact. That's a good sign, at least…"

At this stage, my warped, barely functioning sense of hearing finally manages to distinguish who's voice it is talking to me.

"L-Lieutenant Hawkeye… Is that you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Guh…" I try to force my eyes open again, but it's too much of an effort. I can barely keep from passing out as it is. I catch a blurred, disjointed smudge of military blue, yellow hair, a bright red patch a little further away and a lot of black.

"Wh… What the hell happened? Where are we?" I eventually growl between my teeth.

"You got in a fight. We stumbled into a town after the blizzard, but we got ambushed. They were waiting for us. Your alchemy wasn't working because of the snow and I was already out of ammunition. He fought well, but—"

"Wait, wait. Back up," I order raspily, twitching my fingers (ow, s***!) in a weak attempt at a gesture. "You'll have to start at the beginning. I can't…_ouch_…remember a thing. Not even what the mission was."

Riza's probably frowning a little at this. Probably wondering why I can't remember.

"They must have hit a little hard when they took you out," she says eventually. "Alright. Two weeks ago, you were assigned a mission requiring two state alchemists. It was to travel north and investigate rumours about a rebel organisation planning on attacking Central. I went with you, and we caught a train as close to the designated location as possible. We then had to make our way onward by foot, so as not to get caught. A blizzard sprung up, and the three of us—"

"Three?" I echo, hating how harsh and hoarse the words sound coming from my raw throat.

"Three," Riza confirms. "Edward Elric accompanied us. His brother remained at Central."

"Fullmetal? Where is—gak, ow! Owowow!" I break off, trembling, panting and biting down on my lip again as another spasm of pain rockets through my frame. "Ah, ah, ah, ah! _Ow_!"

I feel something touch my face, then flinch and writhe in pain as firm hands grip my wrist. "Too tight! Too tight, too tight! That hurts! Don't touch me!"

The hands are gone almost immediately, and I cringe as a dull, zinging pain creeps up my arm, gaining intensity as it goes. Yup, I think that wrist's broken too.

Is there any part of my body that's _not_ broken, dammit?!

"Sorry." Riza's voice cuts through the haze of pain again, bringing me back to my senses. "Regarding Major Elric; he's just over there."

"I can't open my eyes, Lieutenant. Even when I do I can't see. You'll need to explain a little better."

"We're currently situated in a small, concrete cell. You are laying on a thin, flimsy mattress stuffed with straw. I am sitting on the floor directly to your right. Major Elric is in the corner, shackled and apparently unconscious. He was awake a few minutes ago, I think. He appears to have received a fair beating from the ambush; his alchemy was strong and he fought long and hard, but he was no match for the whole rebel force."

I gingerly feel the ground beside me with my other hand, (which I can scarcely move, and this simple maneuver aches and burns up my arm and across my chest, hurting like hell in my shoulder) taking in the mattress Riza had mentioned and the icy-cold concrete beneath. "Lieutenant, how badly is Fullmetal injured?"

"There is a large amount of bruises covering his face, and he is sitting in such a position that I am tempted to think he may have damaged his leg in some way. There appears to be blood on the fabric of his cloak, thick and all over his shoulder. The wound does not look life-threatening."

I lick my dry lips, tensing my muscles a little at the next bout of pain that washes over my battered body. "A-ny-thing el-se?" I spit out.

"He is missing several digits from his auto-mail arm, and it is dented on the wrist and palm. I can't see the rest of the arm to judge any more damage. There is a gash on his upper thigh which still looks like it's bleeding. However, it is not deep. That's all I can see."

"And you? Are you okay?"

"Mostly, yes. I'm inclined to think my right ankle might be broken and there are several cuts, bruises and scratches all over my body, but otherwise I'm relatively unscathed."

This was the part I've been dreading. "What about…me?"

"Well, I'm no expert, but I'd say you're the worst of all of us. Judging from your reaction to my touch, your right wrist is broken. Your left shoulder also appears to be dislocated. You were beaten relentlessly even after you had been knocked out, mainly in the stomach, chest and head. I think one or two of your ribs may be broken, and it looks like your hands, feet and face have suffered some slight frostbite. You may have a mild concussion, and I think your right leg might have been twisted or beaten in some way, because it's swollen and your uniform is bloodstained around the area."

I let out a shaky breath. All I manage to say is, "Oh."

Riza falls silent.

"Where are my gloves?" I ask quietly.

"They destroyed them."

"And Fullmetal, can he use any…ow…alchemy?"

"No. His shackles are designed specifically to prevent the use of alchemy."

"Figured as much," I mutter, sighing. I can't see any easy way out of this.

I try to open my eyes again. Ouch. That…really hurt. But I can see now. I can see…phew. _I can see._

At first, it's all a mess of shapes and colours, but it gradually gains clarity. It's still fuzzy and out of focus, but I can make out Riza's face and shoulders at my side.

I look to my left (the world blurs and sloshes around like water in a bucket, making me feel sick) and I can see Edward, whose arms are confined to a thick, rectangular metal plate with two holes cut in. He's sitting on his own messy mattress, propped against the wall with his head against the cold stone. His face is smudged with dirt and bruises, his lip split and dried blood caking his chin. His eyes bear dark purple surrounds, both from bruising and exhaustion. His clothes are a mess of shredded red and black, coated with blood.

In other words, he looks like s***.

I'm busy trying to take in the amount of black, blue, purple and red spread over his face when suddenly there are two dull specks of gold mixed in. They widen a little, and I figure they're his eyes. He's awake.

"Colonel?" he mumbles, straightening up slightly. "You're not dead yet?"

"Not yet," I manage. I allow myself a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. "Damage assessment; your face looks like a dog's breakfast, you've been cut in the leg and shoulder, your auto-mail hand is broken and there's something wrong with your flesh leg. Is there anything else we need to know?"

"My ankle's sprained. That's what's wrong with it. There's nothing else, as far as I know. My…" Edward pauses to let out an exhausted yawn. "My auto-mail's busted the whole way from the elbow down. Can't move anything past that point."

As if to demonstrate, he shrugs his metal shoulder and rattles his forearm. His teeth glint white as he flashes me a grin. "Damage report; you look like crap."

"Says you," I reply, smirking wearily. "Take look in a mirror recently?"

Edward's cheeky grin remains as he says, "Whatever, bastard. You still look like crap."

"Feel like crap," I mutter.

"So," Edward shifts a little in his spot, wincing. "What about you, then? What did you do to yourself?"

"Still not one hundred percent sure," I admit, turning my head back to face the ceiling and closing my eyes. "Ask the Lieutenant. She seems to know. All I can feel is…"

Ouch. Again with the sloshy vision and nausea. And the flippin' rippling pain… Just wait it out… Damn, that smarts. Okay, okay, okay, yup, ouch. It's building now.

Yeah, the pain hasn't been this bad yet. I force my eyes open again and they land on the Lieutenant, whose face is laced with concern.

Edward's jerking up now, dragging himself across the concrete. Haha, he looks ridiculous, trying to come closer wearing those shackles with his leg sticking out and one arm hanging limp…

Crap. Vision tunnelling. Going fuzzy 'round the edges. Going black. Damn, I'm not gonna be able to…stay awake much…longer…

"Unnh…ack! A-hack!"

"Colonel?!" That's Riza's voice there… Always so formal…

"Mustang? Oi, Mustang?!" And Ed… Yeah, so crude. Even when I'm being torn up from the inside out. Cruel boy…

Not boy, even. He's like a grown up already…

* * *

"Colonel! _Colonel!"_

"…nht…dja…wan…" What? What do you want?

"Hey! Wakey-wakey!"

_Tap tap._

"Mn…! Ow…" Ouch! My shoulder! Owowow! Crap! _OUCH!_

"Ed, don't do that! You'll hurt him."

"Crap! Sorry… I'll just…"

_Prod._

"AAICK!" I let out an involuntary screech as a sharp, stabbing pain tears it's way across my side and chest. Shaking, my breathing speeds up into short, shallow pants.

"Ed!"

"I'm sorry! Sorry!"

"His ribs are broken! You can't just touch an injury like that!"

"Nngh… Kuh… Kuwai…waiet…" Quiet guys. Please be quiet. I just wanna sleep, so could you just pipe down a little…?

"Colonel? Are you alright?"

Shh. Tired…

"Mustang. Mustang! Don't do that! Don't you dare pass out! Hey! Hey! Stay in the room, bastard!"

_Tap, tap, tap!_

Now my cheek's on fire. Nice job, Ed.

"Ouch."

"Colonel?"

"What?" I mumble, cracking open one eye slightly. I can see Riza's face a couple of feet away, and Edward beside her.

Her expression is twisted into something stuck between anxiety and relief, and I sort of feel guilty for worrying her.

"What happened?" I ask raspily, feeling a pounding pain beating in rhythm with my heart.

"You just stopped talking, and then you sorta started panting and then you made a sound like you were in pain…" Edward explains. "And then you blacked out."

I nod exhaustedly, trying to breathe deeply, but my chest aches with every movement. "'Kay."

There's a short silence.

"Are you alright?" Riza asks me eventually. "Really alright?"

"I… I don't know," I sigh. "I'm just a bit sore… Actually, a _lot_ sore. I know I shouldn't complain, but… _Goddammit, this hurts!"_

Edward's expression is strangely unreadable, something thoughtful. Odd.

"So," the boy begins. "How are we going to solve this one?"

He frowns and touches a hand to his chin, saying, "I can't use any alchemy with these on. You have no gloves, so that option's gone too… Wait, maybe if I scratch a circle onto the floor…"

"Ed—" Riza starts.

"Shh. Let me," I tell her. "Fullmetal."

"What?"

"Your quick and convenient use of alchemy's gone, and so are my flames. The Lieutenant has no gun. This means that neither I nor she can fight very well. We've still got our hand-to-hand, but that'll be no help against so many. You'll have to be drawing out circles to transmute, which will be hard with those things on," I say, panting slightly in places. "You won't be able to fight too well either. And besides, even if we did break out, how the hell do you expect _any_ of us to be able to run or fight in this condition?"

Edward opens his mouth to argue, but I continue.

"You've sprained your ankle, the Lieutenant's is broken, I can't even _sit up_, let alone make a break for it. Hell, I'm having trouble _breathing. _And don't even _try_ and act like you haven't lost loads of blood already. You can't argue with all that, Ed."

"So you're saying we just gotta sit here and wait?! Not even try?!" Edward near-shouts. "You want to give up?!"

"Edward." Riza lays a hand on the now-fuming teen's shoulder whilst I try to regain some form of steady breathing, her face sympathetically calm. "We'll figure something out eventually. Just hang tight until we can actually even _think_ about trying to escape."

Edward's teeth grind together furiously as he absorbs this information. "So…you're saying there's nothing we can do?"

"Pretty much," I tell him.

"And you're not even bothered by that?!"

"A little, but it's happened to us before."

Silence.

"How exactly did we end up here?" I ask. "You got up to a blizzard, Lieutenant?"

"Hit your head, Mustang?" Edward bites out venomously.

"It would appear so," I reply. "But—"

Riza continues before we can break into a full blown argument. "A couple of hours into the blizzard, we came across a small, abandoned town. We decided to wait the night there, but it seems like the terrorist group had the same idea. There were about eighty, all of whom were fully armed. Your gloves had become damp with melted snow, we were running low on ammo since we couldn't carry that much,. You pulled out your last match and managed to bring down about ten of them head on before we retreated."

I close my eyes again, feeling infuriated as I realise I'd been made into a useless lump of dead-weight by that stage. My hand-to-hand never was that strong; I hadn't really needed it to be with alchemy at my disposal.

"They launched a surprise attack as we hid inside a building. You had dry gloves on by this stage, but there was no way you could use them in battle without destroying the place. You said it would end better if we surrendered, but Major Elric had other plans. He launched a direct assault before you could give the order and managed to take down a few more rebels before he himself was knocked unconscious.

"At the same time, we were also forced into combat, and you…you threw yourself out there and took a blow to the head that was meant for me. This in turn left you winded, and down on the floor. Yu got up, but were incredibly disorientated and couldn't do much. They finished you brutally, kicking at any vulnerable part they could reach until you stopped trying to fight back. You were out cold by this stage. You managed to guard your head quite well, fortunately. It was about this point where Edward fell, too. I was blindfolded and gagged, then we were dragged here. Literally, dragged."

Riza's tone lowers at this point, and she hesitates before continuing with, "These people really hate military folk. They pulled me along on a rope as soon as the blizzard died, and attached Edward to a sled which they tugged along. He wasn't treated so badly on account of his age and lack of uniform, but you... They went all out, tying you by your arms to the back of the sled and trailing you through the snow. Then they just threw us all in here. Again, literally."

"How considerate," I say dryly, keeping my eyes shut. "Must remember to thank them for their hospitality… Explains the frostbite, at least."

Edward has remained silent for the most part. My vote's on him feeling a little guilty because he's most at blame for what happened.

"Speaking of frost…" I open one eye. "Lieutenant, why can I not feel the cold anymore? Only the floor is below an average temperature."

She points at something behind my head I can't see. I turn my neck slowly, so as not to aggravate my light-headedness, and look directly along the floor…or up, from my position.

A few feet away there's a row of metal bars, a gate-like door set into the concrete wall. Beyond that is a roaring fire, beside which a stocky, slumbering guard is situated.

"How long's he been there?" I ask.

"The whole time. He hasn't woken up once," Riza tells me.

"Not even when I called him a dumb old fatso," Edward adds enthusiastically.

"Okay. What happened after we got here? How long was I out?"

"About forty-five minutes after we were locked here, Edward awoke. He complained about a sore head, and that he felt like Alphonse had fallen on top of him, before attempting to stand, failing, and spilling out a whole range of innovative and passionate curse words, some of which I've never heard before."

I snort, which in turn makes me flinch at a zing in my chest and abdomen, and say, "You really have such skill with swearing, Fullmetal."

"Pff. Whatever, dip-s***."

"Somewhere around fifteen minutes later," Riza continues. "You woke up."

"That's all I needed to know," I tell her. "Now…"

I turn my head left to look at her, my eyes half open with tiredness. "You don't mind if I have a rest for a while, do you? I'm a little sleepy."

"'Sleepy'?" Edward echoes. "Sounds like something a kid would say."

"Someone has taken my brain and replaced it with scrambled egg, Fullmetal. You can't blame me."

"Go ahead," Riza cuts in. "You need it."

"So do you. _Both _of you," I decide. "Okay. We should all rest… I think it's night out anyway. I get the feeling we're going to be here a while, at least until someone realises where we are and comes to get us. I highly doubt we need to keep watch; no-one'll attack us when we're already in this condition."

Edward gives a slight nod of comprehension before crawling clumsily across the room to his mattress and flopping down without a word.

"Come closer," Riza calls to him. "It'll be warmer."

"No," he responds to the wall. "I'm fine."

Riza shrugs. "Suit yourself."

She shuffles a little and settles herself on her mattress a foot or so to my left. The last thing I see out of the corner of my eye is her reaching up to undo the clasp that holds her hair in place so it falls around her neck and shoulders like a golden waterfall.

* * *

_HA-WHOOOO…!_

Icy wind howls and shovels truckloads of snow in my face, laughing at my struggling attempts to stumble through it's sharp white claws.

"Colonel!" Riza's shout reaches my ears from a couple of metres behind me. "Colonel, hold on!"

"What is it?" I yell back, pulling my thick coat closer around my body.

"I'm worried about Fullmetal's auto-mail!" she responds, looking over her shoulder at the teen stumbling along behind her with his eyes narrowed almost to the point of slits.

"Well, don't be!" he answers for me, his strong lungs making little work of being heard over the wind. "I'm fine!"

"You're sure?" I call back. "You might get frostbite from the metal!"

"I'm _fine!" _he insists, pointing to his arm. "I put heaps of layers around it, so it should be alright! Armbands, bandages, scarves… You name it, I'm wearing it!"

"And your leg?!"

"I'm not stupid, Mustang! 'Course I did the same there!"

I look to Riza - or rather, her blurry outline - and shout, "Satisfied, Lieutenant?!"

I get no audible response, so I suppose she must be. I grope around my side for the rope I know should be attached to the belt of my blue military trousers I'm wearing underneath this huge thick coat.

My fingers snag it, and I turn to hand the end of it to Riza. "Tie this through the loop on your belt, then pass the end to Fullmetal!"

She nods in response, reaching to her waist and then back behind her to the blurry red splodge that is Edward.

He takes it and I can hear Riza telling him what he needs to do, but I can't quite make out the words.

A minute later we're trekking again, trying to find our way through this mess of white. Edward seems to be complaining at the top of his voice the whole time.

I catch several snatches of his words:

"…they couldn't have picked somewhere better? Less _cold_ maybe? Or somewhere with even a _little_ relevance to the Philosopher's Stone? Ha, nope! Not our military…"

"…but _no_, we just _have_ to get sent somewhere as dumb and pointless as this, to do something that's _equally_ dumb and pointless! Geez…"

"…and what's worse, they made me leave _Al_ behind…"

"…and I'm freezing my ass off in this flipping _winter wonderland…"_

"…and do they have _any_ idea what it feels like to traipse two metal limbs through a place like this? No! Of course not! Because they're all snot-nosed, posh-tosh, fancy-pants ninnies up in command, who've never had to do a single thing for themselves and—"

"Shut up!" I nearly scream, sick to death of his constant whining. "Just! Shut! Up! Or I burn your mouth closed!"

Riza's irked expression tells me she's likely to give Edward's cloak a few extra holes if he doesn't follow that command.

Edward himself gives a great, frustrated, half-roar of irritation before reverting to silence. This in itself echoes my own fed-up attitude; I'd protested against being sent here with all my will, but in vain.

I got sent to one of my least favourite locations _in the country_ all the same.

Eventually, through what seemed to be hours of endless, biting, _mind-numbing_ cold, we stumble across a small, town. There's not a light to be seen, no signs of life, and all the buildings look to be empty.

It's been abandoned.

We don't give ourselves time to wonder why, simply making for the nearest building to escape the burning snow and wind.

Stumbling inside, we gladly set up camp in the centre of the room. Edward and I go around, scavenging whatever wood we can and dumping it in the fireplace.

I strike a match and light it, shivering.

"Not using the gloves?" Edward asks curiously. "You're already wearing them."

"Two reasons. One; I'll probably set the place on fire if I try. Two; they're damp. They won't light." To prove the point, I snap my fingers right in his face.

He flinches.

I smirk. Haha, amusing.

Trembling, the three of us huddle around the fire and silently try to gather some warmth from it. It's a freaking horrible 'freeze-half-to-death' night; all of us are cold and uncomfortable and wet. _Wet_. Damp, soggy, soaking, drenched, saturated, _wet_. I hate it!

_Click._

Mine and Riza's heads jerk at the impossibly quiet noise and we simultaneously grab the drowsing Edward's fluffy hood and make a dive for the opposite wall, under the window. I swiftly kick a pile of snow over the fire as I do so, efficiently smothering it.

"Gak! What the—"

I slap a gloved hand over Edward's mouth and he resorts to blinking in confused shock at the two of us. I raise my free hand and make a shushing motion, then point at the window above our heads, mouthing, "Guns."

Edward's eyes widen in realisation and I remove my hand from his face. He glances up at the window, his face taking on a look of thoughtful worry.

Riza slowly reaches for her waist, for the pistol I know is holstered underneath the thick coat she's wearing. I rub my hands together furiously, trying to generate enough friction to dry off my gloves.

I succeed in making a wispy mix of smoke and steam.

Edward annoys me further by giving me a falsely sympathetic pat on the back, the smirk on his face saying, 'who's laughing now?'

Riza gives us both a soft kick in the leg and hands me the gun off her other leg and a couple of cases of bullets, whispering, "All I got left. Better hope your gloves dry."

I take a deep breath, cock the gun and give Riza a nod. "Ambush them?"

She nods back.

Edward claps softly. "Let's go."

We creep towards the door, guns aiming forward and hands poised to transmute. As soon as we step outside, the fight will be on.

* * *

_CLA-CLUNK._

The cell door opens.

"In there. Treat those three; they're valuable hostages. Can't have 'em dying on us."

I open my eyes just in time to see the doors behind me close again, and hear the lock slide back into place.

A young man stands on the inside of the cell now, clutching a large case to his chest, and wearing a brown, fur-lined jacket and great furry mittens. He glances at the three of us, all now fully conscious, with nervous, midnight-blue eyes.

His hair is tousled and a blue-black colour, and he wears average sized, oval shaped glasses. His face is pale and a tiny bit round in the cheeks, but he looks pretty normal.

From what I can tell, anyway. In my perspective, he's a little bit sideways/upside-down.

"'Morning," is all he says.

"'Morning," I return, a hint of sharpness in my voice. "Who are you?"

"Shaydin Mackenzie," he responds quietly, looking at his feet. "I'm a medic. I was sent here to treat you."

"Thanks," Edward says coldly. "But no thanks. Who knows what you'll do to us?"

"Please," Shaydin murmurs. "Trust me. There's only as much chance of me hurting you as you are hurting me. I'm a healer, not a fighter."

We all consider this, Shaydin still pressing close to his case. He steals a quick glance in my direction, but lowers it when he realises I'm staring straight back at him. He looks to be quite shy.

"Alright," I say eventually. "But if you try anything funny, I'll…"

I trail off, sighing as I remember there isn't really much I can do.

"As likely to hurt you as you are me," Shaydin repeats, moving a few steps forward. He keeps his eyes on the ground and stops in the middle of the room, right beside me. "Direct me wherever you need."

"Him first," Riza says, pointing at me.

I look disbelievingly in her direction. "Not a chance, Lieutenant, not a chance."

"But sir," she starts, sitting forward. "You're the worst out of the three of us, you—"

"As commanding officer of this mission, I, Colonel Roy Mustang, demand that my two subordinates be tended to before me," I say authoritatively, blinking at Shaydin in a challenge to try and do otherwise.

"Can't argue with that," he says quietly, moving towards Riza and removing his gloves.

She narrows her hazel eyes at me in irritation and worry, but I return her gaze unflinchingly. I watch Shaydin closely as he sorts through his case and takes out a vial of amber-coloured liquid which, judging from how he dabs it on her cuts, is antiseptic or something similar.

I can tell it's probably stinging Riza, but I have my own pain to deal with. Nothing has improved since yesterday, except perhaps my head is a little less painful and fuzzy, I'm not as dizzy and the nausea has faded a little.

I see Riza bite her lip as Shaydin sets a splint to her injured left foot and bandages it, and a few beads of perspiration form on her forehead.

After this, Shaydin pulls out a bottle of water and hands it to her, gently saying, "Drink up. There will be food later."

She does as she's told, Shaydin packs up his case and moves over to the corner of the room to treat Edward.

This won't be easy.

"Hell no!" he exclaims as the medic draws near him. "I'm not letting you touch me!"

Shaydin sighs softly and sets his case down. "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with—"

"Then scat!"

"—but I would very much like to dress your wounds—"

"Dress someone else, buddy!"

"—and I am sure you'd feel a lot better if I could see to your injuries, also—"

"I feel fine! Great!"

"—I'm sure your superior would prefer that I did."

"Nuh-uh! No way!" Edward exclaims, his tone angry verging on panicked. "You don't give a damn, Mustang! Tell him to go away!"

"Fullmetal, let the boy fix you up. That's a direct order."

"No! I'm good! I don't want him to!"

"Fullmetal!" I sharpen my voice now, and my calm, commanding aura has returned to me - of course it has!

Even when I'm lying on the floor, bashed beyond recognition, living in a world of pain and having difficulty breathing.

Edward looks from me to Shaydin, to Riza and then back at Shaydin, his face pleading. He lets out a defeated sigh. "Okay."

"Thank you," Shaydin mumbles, reaching forward to touch Edward's forehead.

"What're you doing?" he asks sharply.

"Checking for fever," Shaydin replies. "Do not worry, you feel fine."

Edward regards the young medic with great suspicion as he inspects his battered auto-mail.

"I have never seen auto-mail made this skillfully before," he admits. "Not in the town I come from, anyway."

"I have a good engineer," Edward tells him icily.

Shaydin nods slightly. "Okay. What hurts? Do you know what injuries you may have?"

"I sprained my ankle, got cut in the leg, got hit in the face a lot and… I um…" His voice drops drastically and he looks guiltily at his feet. "There's a bullet in my shoulder…"

Riza and I explode into action.

"There's a hunk of metal in your shoulder and you didn't tell us?! Idiot!"

"Edward, why didn't you say something? A bullet wound is a lot more threatening than a scratch!"

"You flaming dumbass! Don't you know when to tell us what the flipping hell is wrong with you?!"

"You shouldn't hide things as serious as this!"

Edward squirms and squeaks, glares and scowls. "Sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it!" Riza and I scold in unison, surprised at each other.

"Not to worry," Shaydin murmurs. "I can remove it if it is not in too deep."

"It's not," Edward mutters. "I can see it. Plus it was a really low-power gun. The bullet's small. _Tiny_. Miniscule. Itty-bitty. A eensy-weensy, teeny-weeny little insignificant—"

He pauses, his eyebrow twitches and he shuts up as he realises how many synonyms for the word 'small' he just used.

He removes his jacket and cloak as Shaydin tells him, then lays down on the mattress.

"This will probably hurt a little, but I have no anaesthetic or even painkillers to offer you," the young man explains. "For that, I apologise."

He begins by washing off and disinfecting the area around the wound, then grabs a mid-size pair of tweezers. "Please, try to hold still. I should be done quickly."

I exchange a glance with Edward, and am surprised to see a hint of fear in his eyes. I give what I hope appears to be a reassuring nod and say, "Don't worry."

Edward nods in return, cringing and gulping a little.

"And…I'll start now."

Edward immediately stiffens, biting down on his lip and in an effort to contain within his chest a cry of terror and pain I can see on his sweating face.

About fifteen seconds later, Edward gives a scarily childish-sounding whimper and Shaydin steps back. "Done."

The bullet is still pinched in the end of the tweezers, and Edward's face has taken on a deathly pale shade.

He looks weak.

Just…weak. Scary.

Shaydin looks back at the boy. "You have lost much blood. I am surprised you are so…_energetic_…in this condition," he comments. "I may need to stitch that back up…"

I didn't think it possible for a human to go any whiter, but Edward visibly blanches at the thought of this, any trace of colour left in his face draining away and his eyes widening like great golden dinner plates, his arms going weak at his sides. "No! Nononono! You aren't _touching_ me with a needle! Don't even _try_ it!"

Shaydin shrugs. "Very well. You are lucky that the wound is small and the bullet did not penetrate too far. I will let you off this once. A patch and a bandage should do the trick."

He binds Edward's left shoulder and my youngest subordinate sits up as the medic moves on to treating the slash on his thigh, cleaning up other scratches he finds on the way.

He says the wound is very light and doesn't require stitching, and Edward lets out a loud sigh of relief, sweat still beading his face.

Then Shaydin gives him a bottle of water as well, and a plastic bag packed full of snow to hold against his sprained ankle. Now he's coming for me.

Oh, joy.

"Hm. This does not look good," he comments.

"Doesn't _feel_ good," I reply, watching him kneel down beside me.

"I can imagine. Do you know what is wrong?"

"I think I've broken a rib or two, there's something wrong with my leg, my wrist's broken, my shoulder's been dislocated and Lieutenant Hawkeye reckons I might be frostbitten."

"I see," says Shaydin quietly. "I see…"

He looks me up and down. "This won't be easy, you know. It is going to hurt any way I do it."

I nod as best I can. "You're the doc. Go crazy."

Shaydin nods and moves closer to feel my temperature. He puts two fingers on my forehead and two on his own. He stays that way for a while before his brow furrows and he says, "Hm."

That's never good.

"What is it?" Riza asks, shuffling closer. I can now see her face beside Shaydin's.

"A fever," he replies, tone solemn.

My heart skips a beat. "Oh. Do…do you know what caused it?"

"No," Shaydin admits. He looks at my leg. "But I have a hunch."

I attempt to look at my leg too, since that's what everyone else seems to be doing (except Ed, because he's busy being all shaken-up and frazzled in the corner), but this just hurts so I give up. "Problem?"

"Is your leg cut or sprained?" Shaydin asks me quietly.

"I don't know. I can't tell. I sort of can't sit up to check."

"Hm." Shaydin moves down to my leg and starts to work the fabric of my loose military trousers upwards to see the actual wound. I can feel it stinging intensely around my upper shin, and I guess that must mean it's been cut.

"Yeah," I mutter, clenching my jaw. "Cut."

Shaydin eases my trousers up further past it, and then stops. "As I thought," he says.

"What? What is it?" I struggle to raise my head the few centimetres needed.

"The wound is infected," says Shaydin.

I drop my head back down, groaning in annoyance. That explains why I feel so…so…blah. I feel blah_._ Just… Just _blah_.

Don't even ask.

"It must have been the new weapons they are testing; blades tipped with a certain herb that causes the wound to become infected straightaway," says Shaydin with a disapproving snort.

"What about Fullmetal? Is his wound—"

"It is fine. No signs of infection," Shaydin reports, sorting through his case. "But really, you should be more worried about yourself. This kind of thing can be fatal, you know…"

"I know."

Air hisses out between my teeth as Shaydin dresses the cut with all kinds of disinfectants and antiseptics and things, which stings like hell and starts my pain spasming again.

"I will have to sew this one," Shaydin tells me quietly. "Are you okay with that?"

"Knock-yourself ou-ut," I stammer, my voice cracking in and out as I try to suppress the pain in my body. "You kno-ow what you're do-ing."

He starts stitching the slash back up, and I cringe, feeling heat gather in my cheeks and sweat trickle all down my face and saturate my hands.

About five minutes later, Shaydin's done and he's bandaged the wound and everything. He's very skilled. And efficient.

I close my eyes, still clenching my teeth together.

"Alright," Shaydin's voice has become suddenly sharp, and I open my eyes. "I am going to fix that shoulder now."

I gulp. There's quite an awkward (and sore) process followed as he and Riza remove my thick blue jacket and set it aside for better access.

Shaydin analyses my arm and says, "Okay. I think I can put it back in it's place from this position. I suppose you're already in enough pain, and it is probably a bad idea to try and move you."

He judges my arm for a little longer before saying, "I will do it now. Try to hold still. This will hurt for a couple of minutes, and ache for a few days afterwards, but it will feel a lot better than if I do not fix it."

I nod slightly, a nervous queasiness settling in my gut. I'm not looking forward to this part. But anyways, it needs to be done.

"Do it," I order, my voice surprisingly calm.

Swiftly, Shaydin grabs my upper arm, shoves, and there is a sickening click as he puts my shoulder back where it belongs within seconds.

F***.

That. _Hurt._

"Gghh... Gyaak! Rrrr..." My body jerks a little as a bolt of pain shoots across my chest from my shoulder and down my arm.

It hurts.

_Damn_, it hurts.

"AAAIIKH!"

"Colonel!"

* * *

Roy screams.

That's rare. I've never heard anything like that ever come from that bastard's mouth. Scary.

It's not a _scream_ scream, not like Alphonse used to do (and still does when he sees a litter of kittens) when he was younger - it's not a girly wail.

It's a full-blown, from-the-belly _yell_, and it's laced with agony. His voice cracks and then he's limp all over again, trembling on the floor and drenched in sweat. He bites down on his lip so hard after it's gone that it bleeds, and now there's scarlet red running all down his chin.

I don't think I've ever seen him so…vulnerable. I don't like it. It isn't right. As much as it pains me to say so, that colonel is tough; he's a strong man. He shouldn't be like this.

Reduced to something so…weak.

_Weak._

Mustang and weak. The two words cannot be put in the same sentence, unless there's an 'isn't' inserted between them.

"Hah…hah…hah…" Roy's breaths are coming short and sharp now, his expression set in a cringe. His face is red and dripping wet with both sweat and now blood, his feet twitching and writhing in total agony. Riza is at his side, as usual, coaxing him to try and calm down and take a deep breath.

He's hyperventilating.

And yet here I remain, in the corner of the room, silent and the only one to blame for why he's like this. Stupid Ed, stupid, _stupid_ Ed… I sigh. Insulting myself has never helped anything.

"Sir! Can you hear me?" Riza asks in a strong clear voice.

Shaydin presses another pack of snow to Roy's shoulder, and he gasps, shuddering in the effort of bearing it all.

But he's losing his grip. His eyes are slipping closed now; his breathing's becoming softer.

"Mustang! You jerkface!" I call suddenly. "Don't black out, you ol' sissy!"

And then he's back.

His eyes aren't full of that sharp wit or hidden intelligence they normally hide, but they're open, awake and fixed on the room.

That's all I need.

"That…" Roy says, huffing for breath. "…really…hurt…"

"You don't say?" I mutter, reverting to my corner. I turn my head in the other direction, staring out the cell door. No-one needs to know I was ever even worried for him. Slightly.

I can't believe the guy sometimes. I pass him off as all kinds of things; bastard, pervert, slut, slave-driver, lazy, arrogant, know-it-all, even useless.

I know he hates that last one.

But I've just seen him go through with this…_agony_…and not show even a hint of fear. I flat-out refused in sheer terror at the _thought_ of a needle so much as _touching_ me, and he bears it without so much as a complaint.

And now he's just had his shoulder rammed back into it's socket, at the same time as having broken ribs, an infected wound, a broken wrist and possibly a mild concussion.

Unbelieveable.

I thought Al and I had seen almost all the pain the world could give us, but no. There'll always be more.

And as frustrated as it makes me to admit it, right now, I'm the useless one.

Now I know why he hates that word so much. This is a terrible feeling.

"Here." Shaydin holds a third bottle of water out behind him as he rifles through his case for some other medical tool. "There's medicine mixed in," he explains.

Riza takes it and shifts around to Roy's top half, easing his head slowly off the floor and onto her knees, urging, "Drink. You'll feel better."

Roy mumbles something unintelligible and twists his head a few degrees in a feeble attempt to tell her he doesn't want any, his face twisted with pain and exhaustion.

"Drink," Riza orders, her voice sharp. Even when she doesn't have a gun, she's still just as threatening.

Roy lets out a whimper that sounds eerily like a scolded puppy and closes his eyes, frowning. "No, thanks. Feel sick," is all he manages.

Riza is persistent. "Colonel, you know it'll do you good to have a little more fluid in your system after what you've been through."

"She is right…" Shaydin's light voice floats over his shoulder as he looks through his things.

Roy moans, seemingly giving in. He lets Riza give him a few sips of the water at long intervals before he closes his mouth and blatantly refuses to take any more.

Although he doesn't need his head propped up anymore, Riza stays there, letting Roy rest on her lap as Shaydin splints and bandages his wrist.

He only makes one noise this time, and it's a simple, "Ow."

Next, Shaydin hands Riza a tub of ointment and tells her to put some anywhere on his face that looks bruised or frostbitten.

I kindly point out that that's basically his entire face.

Riza thanks me for my input, then tells me I should lie down and get some rest, that I'll need it if we've got any hope of healing up and getting out of here.

Then I just go quiet again, the guilt of knowing this was my fault gnawing slowly at my gut. She… She shouldn't be worried about…me… No-one should…because I don't deserve it.

This stuff…that happened…all the stuff. Mom, Al, Lots o' stuff's my fault. Now I've got this to list as well.

Yay.

I can't even remember all the I that…stuff did…like a little white book. It doesn't work. I think it was broken, maybe? Winry didn't like it either… I wanted to, to… Alchemy, y'know? Alphonse, too, mostly.

That was a law, wasn't it? Not, a science one, it was a metaphor, I think. Mom said it when I skipped my homework. Something about a mumble? Everything that will go wrong, wrong…it can…whatever it was… Don't remember. The truth certainly did though.

And then there was fire… Fire like _eyes, _actual, legitimate _eyes… _Can you imagine that?

It's in his too. And Al's is fire. Just…fire. It's scary. Sometimes…I…can't…look.

You know, I'm really tired. My eyes are stinging and the room is a little blurry. Blinking. Won't. Stay. Open!

I can't think clearly anymore.

Damnloss, blood it. Haha, funny…spoonerism.

Why's it called that? What's with the spoon? What does language have to do with spoons? 'Spoonerism' sounds like some kind of dumb religion where people worship spoons…

I'm tired. I can't hear my thoughts.

In my…experience…blood loss…tends to…make…things…black.

* * *

_Shhh…fwump._

Edward's now ragdoll-like body slides down the wall he was leaning against and hits the floor with a thump, leaving him with his stomach on the cold, hard stone.

His head is turned slightly to the side, just enough that I can see his dark-rimmed eyes flicker open once before falling still. He looks beat.

Just beat.

I want to go fix him into a more comfortable position, but…

I look at Roy's face on my lap. He's barely conscious, his glassy eyes fixed on a point in the air I can't see whilst Shaydin treats the frostbite on his hands.

"Lieu…ten…ant…"

"Yes?"

"'M sleepy. C'nai sleep?" His eyes flick to me, and they're so exhausted and filled with pain that I can't deny him. "Just…wanna sleep. Please."

"Go ahead," I tell him quietly.

"So tired." He nods once, so slightly I'm unsure as to whether it's actually a nod or not, before his eyes close and he goes limp within seconds. "…fanks…"

He's so like a little child at times it's unbelieveable. It can't be healthy for someone of his age and position.

His battered face becomes placid as he falls into the grip of sleep. I gently move his head back off my knees, but I leave his military jacket underneath his head like a pillow.

Shaydin watches as I limp over to Edward's unconscious form and slip my arms under his, pulling him onto his mattress and dragging both of them over to where Roy lies.

I flop down on my own mattress, letting out a huffing breath of exertion.

"Thirsty?" Shaydin asks, turning Roy's hand over in his own and inspecting his palm.

"No, thank you. I'm okay," I respond. "He's just quite heavy with the auto-mail and shackles and all."

"I see." Shaydin reaches across Roy's chest and unbuttons his thick, white shirt to inspect his ribs. After a few moments, he states, "Two broken on the left. Does not look too bad. They should heal more or less without assistance."

"You're very skilled, do you know that?" I tell him.

"Thank you…" Shaydin replies, looking startled. "I have trained for quite a while."

I watch him deftly treat the bruises on Roy's stomach and chest before saying, "You don't really want to work for these people, do you?"

The young man looks up, out the door at the once-again sleeping guard before answering. "No. Not really. I mean no offence, but I am not particularly keen on the military either, but not so much that I would want to _rebel_… Everyone nowadays… It seems that the only way to fix anything is to kill anyone and anything that dares stand in your path. Like an animal."

He looks at his hands. "I mean, the military rules with strength, power and bloodshed, and that is not what I think our country should be led by."

"I agree," I say softly. "And so would these two, I know… But why would you join this group, then? You know they're out for blood."

"It is simple," Shaydin says wretchedly, shrugging sadly. "Money. My mother and younger sister are starving at home; we are poor, you see? And they pay well here. I just need the money to keep them alive."

My heart almost breaks for this young man, whose healing hands could be put to much better use elsewhere. "Is that the truth?" I ask softly. Always be wary, I was taught. He could be lying to gain my trust.

"I swear it," Shaydin murmurs, placing a hand on his chest. "On my own life. I never want to hurt a person. Only heal."

I feel a plan forming. "Shaydin…exactly how many rebels are there in this group?"

"About a hundred and sixty… But you wounded about forty to fifty of them when they took you in. Why?"

"And do they have any forms of communication devices here?"

"Yes. There is a small telecommunications device that sends coded messages."

"Perfect," I say softly. "I have a job for you. It's of the utmost importance." I lean forward and whisper the rest into his ear, being doubly safe no-one will overhear.

Shaydin's eyes widen as I tell him, and as I draw away, he says, "Do you know what would happen if I was caught?"

"You won't be. Only East City uses that one. Only their devices will snag it. And anyway…" I gesture with my hand at Roy's body. "Believe it or not - I know, he's kind of a fool at times - but this man is going to change the whole way Amestris' military is run. Help us, and you might just have pushed the world in the direction you want. Peace."

I raise an eyebrow. "So. Will you help us?"

"If I get caught…" Shaydin whispers. "If I get caught, and they do something terrible to me…what will happen to my family?"

"You will not get caught," I assure him firmly. "Please help us."

He sits in silence for a moment.

"I… I'll do it."

I smile a little. "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"…mmnnf…"

We both look towards Edward, who's lying on his back directly to our left.

He's cringing, teeth bared, his nails scratching at the floor and his head twitching slightly.

"What…?" Shaydin trails off, his eyes clouding with confusion.

"Nightmares," I say softly. "Not uncommon in our type."

Shaydin's brow creases a little. "How old is he anyway…?"

"Fifteen," I reply.

"What?!"

"And three months."

Shaydin casts his eyes to the boy beside him, his face aghast. "He cannot be military."

"He is. A state alchemist, actually."

Shaydin shakes his head in exasperation. "No way. That is not possible. I have heard the exploits of those dogs, how many people they killed in the East. I even heard there was a man who just snapped his fingers and - bam! - whole villages up in flames!"

I decided against telling him that the man he'd just described was lying right next to him.

"No," he says decisively. "Not even they would stoop so low as to enlist children."

"They would. But there are good people amongst them, you know," I say. "Soldiers who fight for the people."

"For the people…" Shaydin turns these words around in his mouth, as if to try and decipher the meaning. "Like the 'Hero of the People'? I have heard tell of a state alchemist whose exploits have helped liberate people all over from deception and the like. They say he is an Eastern soldier, but the stories reach the whole way out here. They say he is awful young, and travels with his brother, who wears a suit of armour."

I reach out and brush a clingy bang off Edward's forehead, wondering how on earth such a small person had spread his reputation so far. "Yes. Like him. The 'Fullmetal Alchemist'."

Shaydin looks from me to Edward, his eyes stretched wide like an owl's. "But is that not…what the Colonel called _him?"_

"The very same," I say in a quiet tone. "That's why it's all the more important that we get out. He's young, the future of our country. He gives people hope. Hope that we won't always be this way; war-torn and driven by lust for power. He knows exactly how much he needs for himself and exactly how much he needs to give to others, although he hasn't realised it himself."

"Al…" Edward mumbles in his sleep, his face creased with worry and longing. "Alphonse… Li'l bro…"

"And he's got a younger brother waiting for him."


	2. Chapter 2

**ONWARD!**

* * *

I woke up…about an hour later, maybe?

That medic guy - Shaydin, right? - is gone. I've somehow managed to be magically teleported from the place I passed out to right beside Lieutenant Hawkeye.

Grumbling under my breath, I try to reach up with one hand to rub my face, but then remember I'm shackled and end up clumsily trying to brush the sleep out of my eyes with my shoulder.

_Then_ I remember I got shot in the shoulder.

Can I just say 'ouch'?

I sit up and look around, feeling sluggish and light-headed. It's night out, as I speculate from the complete and utter lack of light, apart from the flickering fire outside the door, (which has somehow managed to burn the whole way through to now - has that sleepy fat dude been putting wood on it all this time?) and the others seem to be sleeping soundly.

Now, when I say sleeping soundly, I'm sort of stretching the truth a little.

Riza's lying on her side, facing the opposite direction, so I can't see her face. But she's shaking, it's clear even in the dark. And I don't think it's from the cold.

Roy's still on his back, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the stress it's putting on his facial muscles. He's red in the face and sweating, using his jacket as a pillow now. His shoes have been removed too, I notice.

Feeling awkward in such close proximity, I grab my mattress and shuffle a little further away, cursing at the pain in my shoulder and ankle.

I lie back down on my side, facing the wall.

Just as I fall asleep, thinking of Alphonse, I notice that I haven't moved quite as far away from them as I thought I did.

* * *

"On three," I whisper, flicking my gun at the door lightly. "One…two…three!"

Edward draws his arm into a blade, and there's a shout as the flash alerts whoever's outside. He lets out a wordless battlecry as I slam through the door and the three of us burst into the open…

…and stop dead.

You know, most people would suppose the click of one gun would mean a couple of men… Apparently most people would be wrong.

We're confronted with well over eighty men, all of whom are fully armed and pointing guns straight at us.

"Well, f***."

You can probably guess who graced us with this well-informed observation.

"Drop your weapons, military scum!"

Riza and I slowly set the guns at our feet and Edward restores his arm to it's original form, his golden eyes darting all over as if to find some means of escape.

Sorry, Ed. _Way_ ahead of you.

Stealthily, as not to arouse suspicion, I slip one hand up to the inside of my sleeve and grab hold of the small, rectangular object stowed there.

"Who are you and why are you here?" comes the question from one of the men, an older one who's seemingly the leader.

"Just passing through," I say, moving my hand around at an angle to get a firm grip of the thing and begin to work it open. "A couple of officers and a kid."

"Names, man!" he shouts. "I want names! Give 'em to me!"

"Well," I say, mentally cheering as I manage to achieve my goal. "This is Lieutenant Gofuk Yorselfs, and Major Yora Doosh. My name would be General Go Die-in-a-hole."

_Click!_

_Shwip!_

_Bang!_

_Snap!_

_BOOM!_

The noises happened almost in the exact split second, and then we were sprinting.

_Click_ - The gun was aimed.

_Shwip_ - I struck a match.

_Bang_ - The gun was fired.

_Snap_ - The flames flew straight across the street.

_BOOM!_ - They exploded.

Riza grabbed the two guns from the ground and we sprinted, making a run for the closest place we were able to regroup. The lieutenant peppers them with bullets as we run, most of them getting hit as they try to evade the flames and smoke.

I kicked into a door full-force, and smashed right into what appeared to be an old, concrete store-house, panting.

"I thought…your gloves…were wet," huffed Edward, pulling his coat tight over his shoulders and cringing.

I don't bother pointing out that all his efforts to hide the wound on his shoulder are pointless if he's dripping blood all over the floor.

"That wasn't my gloves," I explain hastily. "That was the last in my supply of emergency matches…"

We allow ourselves a few moments to catch our breath before beginning to construct a new strategy.

"How much ammo have we got left?" I ask.

"Not much. The mission was only to investigate the rumours; no one actually believed the group existed," Riza tells me. "It was more of the higher-ups playing with you again."

"Damn them!" I hiss, running a hand through my hair. "If they hadn't sent us out here we wouldn't be in this mess!"

"It's your own damn fault for being such a freakin' bastard all the time!" Edward growls. "And it was your stupid idea to run out there in the first place!"

"I didn't hear you protest!" I snap back. "In fact, you were eager to go! What did that shout sound like again? Was it like 'Graaaagh!'? Or was it more like 'Nyaaah!'?!"

"At least I don't scream like a girl!"

"Oho! Are you—"

"Sirs!" Riza snaps. "We don't have time for this!"

"I agree one hundred percent!" Edward barks, shoving his face up in mine. "Shut up, Colonel!"

I cuff Edward over the head start to formulate a plan. "Alright. Here's what we're gonna do…"

I tell them about my plan, trying to keep my cool with Edward's constant snarky interruptions and snide comments.

Just as I get to the end, there's a cry of "In here!" and we're stuffed. Well, I suppose the plan was a little bit of a long shot anyway…

About twenty of the men charge in and we hold our ground, guns and alchemically-transmuted fighting staffs at the ready.

Out of habit, I keep my other hand raised and poised to snap, even though nothing will happen if I do.

Bar an embarrassing puff of steamy smoke…

"Surrender now, while you still can!" shouts one of the men, his gun pointed right at me. Actually, pretty much all the guns are pointed at me. Sometimes I hate how powerful I look.

"Alright," I say softly to Riza and Edward. "I think we should turn ourselves in. There'll be less chance of us getting hurt—"

"Yeah, right!" Edward yells, charging forward.

I gape at him before shaking my head as the rage builds within me. There's just enough time for me to shout;

_"Goddammit, Fullmetal!"_

The guns fire.

* * *

_SNAP!_

"Ah, s***!"

I drop my arm from it's extended position, clutching my side gently and letting out a shuddering, painful breath. Sitting up is probably one of the most excruciating things I can do to myself right now.

This is the third time tonight I've woken up trying to kill the wall.

"Ouch…" I reach out with my right elbow, leaning back on it and easing myself onto the ground as slowly as I can. Moving makes me dizzy.

"Aah…" I huff, closing my eyes and breathing quick and light to minimize the amount of movement my chest makes. Feels like there's a great lump of rock sitting on my chest.

I open my eyes and turn my head to the left.

Riza's blonde hair blurs before my eyes. I've moved my head too fast, and now everything's sliding in and out of focus and rippling like I'm looking at it through water. I hate water.

Feel like I'm gonna throw up.

Groaning, I crane my neck and clench my jaw, rubbing my bare feet against the ice-cold floor at the end of my mattress. "Urgh…"

_Close your eyes, Roy… Close your eyes,_ I tell myself. _You'll feel better._

I listen to myself, unintentionally twitching my head from left to right.

"Oi. Bastard. Open your eyes."

_Open your eyes._

The same voice. What?! That's… That's crazy! It was _him?!_

I force open an eye and look at Edward, who's staring down at me and scowling. "You're not dying, are you?"

I don't respond, too busy trying to endure the pain and nausea.

Edward stretches his left hand (and right, seeing as how they're shackled) forward, flinching a little, and touches the back of it to my forehead, frowning. "Well, that'd be why. You're burning up."

He blows out his cheeks, sighing. "I don't know the first thing about treating something like this. All I know is that you gotta cool down. So…"

He uses his other hand to pick up the whole weight of the shackles, since his auto-mail isn't functioning properly, then moves it to set the metal prosthetic gently on my forehead. I can feel a couple trailing wires, and I'm pretty sure he's only got two and a half fingers left, but it really does feel nice and cold against my burning skin.

It's freezing. It's freezing, and Edward hasn't complained once. I call him all kinds of names, like pipsqueak, shrimp-cake, shorty, obnoxious little squirt, irritating bean-sprout, loud, grumpy, hot-headed, rash…

But really, he's strong. Really strong, inside and out. I mean, if one were to consider all the events in his life and count out how many terrible things had ever happened him, one would probably feel like giving up and get depressed _thinking _about it.

I look at Edward with one eye. He's still scowling, looking stubbornly at the opposite wall. Ha. I think he must be embarrassed to be helping me.

Not like I can talk though.

I'm just as embarrassed as he is. I mean, I'm supposed to be _his_ superior, and yet here I am lying on the floor and letting _him_ tend to _me._

Ffft. The world is dumb.

Just. Dumb.

Before I know it, I'm asleep again.

* * *

"So. You know the rules, dog. I'll go o'er 'em again, like yesterday, even though I'm sure a smart woman like yerself can remember. Ya can either bark, or we torture it outta ya. So, are ya gonna howl, dog?"

I sat stoic and silent, my nonchalant hazel eyes fixed on the face of my captor. I'm bound hands and feet, sitting on a dodgy wooden stool in a dark room.

I raise one lone eyebrow in a wordless challenge, enraging the man further.

He isn't handsome, with skin reddened by years of endless snow and oversized tomato of a nose. His teeth are yellowed and the rest of his face eerily resembles a bulldog.

"No."

With that one simple word, I nearly manage to send the man into a fit. Good.

We'd been through this the night before as well, the ugly brute trying to beat the information out of me with huge, bony fists.

He was clever, though, managing to do it in such a way that he only left bruises underneath my clothes so that Roy and Edward wouldn't notice. He took me out in the middle of the night last night, when they were asleep. He'd threatened to bring them out and put them through the same if I told them.

Even if he hadn't said that, I still wouldn't have told them. Especially not Roy.

Now, Roy is a smart man (most of the time), I'll give him that. But as soon as it's got anything to do with his comrades being hurt, he loses any sense of logic; all that strategy, science and cunning he's practised over the years fly right out the window to be replaced by a deep-seated grudge.

As soon as the words left my mouth, he'd be struggling to get up and give those men a piece of his mind. Which, in his current condition and without gloves, is most definitely a bad idea.

I'm not sure what Edward would do, but I am sure he wouldn't sit by quietly. Even if he did manage to figure that he couldn't _physically_ get at my torturers, he'd definitely scream and shout for a long while.

And besides, if Edward knew, Roy would know.

But the added threat of them being beaten as well told me I most certainly couldn't let them figure it out.

"Alright, y'ignorant cur, if you won't talk Imma just hafta beat it outta ya."

_Thump!_

The first blow has me off the seat and on the floor. This one was right in the back of my head, under my hair.

"I'm a-gonna ask, and you're a-gonna answer, girl. That's how it works. For ev'ry question ya don't answer, Imma hit ya. Understand?"

"Yes. As you said, I am a smart woman. It doesn't take much to figure out the plans of a barbarian such as yourself."

_Whack!_

Right in the stomach. Oh, how I _wish _I could fight back. But I've already tried; the man tossed me back down like a wet rag, and with this leg remaining in a standing position is difficult for me anyway.

"So, girl, what's your name?"

"That's classified. I'm not allowed to tell you."

_Smack!_ A slap to the face as I rise to my knees.

"And yer commander? The li'l pup in there? What's they called?"

"Also classified. I could give their code names, but I don't particularly want to."

_Bam! _He's mad now; I can tell because he's no longer aiming for under the clothes. That kick hit right in the side of the face. And, after a full night of this yesterday, I can understand why he's upset.

"Tell. Me. Your. Name!" he growls, the full extent of the stench of his breath reaching me as he grabs me by the hair and holds my face in front of his.

I spit on him.

"Ack!" I'm thrown against the wall opposite, sliding down onto my side. I push myself up shakily, standing up to face him.

I will not remain on the floor as if I'm worthless, as if I have no pride, dignity or honour, as if he is superior to me.

As if I'm some kind of animal.

This goes on for a couple of hours, and by the end, I'm sure every inch of skin underneath my uniform must be covered in bruises.

I'm pretty sure all the info he's managed to gather so far is that I'm quite tenacious.

Finally, he shoves a blindfold over my eyes and pulls me through the corridors back to the cell I share with Edward and Roy. He whips the thing off my eyes and shoves me into the room, locks the door and leaves.

I stumble in, clutching my side.

My ankle is indeed, most _definitely _broken, and now it's hurting pretty fiercely. Luckily, I managed to keep it out of the way of most of the man's blows, so it should be more or less okay. The splint Shaydin secured it with has remained in place as well. Good.

I make my way over to my bed and discover something surprising on the way. I'd noticed Edward had moved closer to Roy and fallen asleep there, but I myself was half-asleep when they'd grabbed me and I hadn't noticed exactly _why_ he was there.

I smile wearily as I see Edward's beaten auto-mail resting gently on Roy's forehead, and the shackles having been slid down to the middle of his forearm so they didn't get in the way.

I drag myself over to my mattress and settle there, utterly exhausted and in pain. I close my eyes on the sight of the two sleeping peacefully beside each other, both blissfully unaware of my watching eyes.

* * *

It's been about a week, I think, since the night Edward helped me. The morning after, he'd moved the whole way over to the corner of the room again.

He's like some wild animal, I think, and you have to build up some sense of trust before he'll come near you.

I no longer have to turn my head at the speed of snail, so I'll suppose this means I no longer have a concussion, and Edward has returned to his usual, snarky, annoying self. That's good, I reckon. In some way, shape or form.

There's one thing that does concern me about him, though. He's jumpy. Moody. Too reserved. And there's a lag time of roughly three and a half seconds between the uttering of the word 'short' and his eruptions of apoplectic rage.

The Lieutenant is unusually quiet as well, even for her. I'm a little worried about that.

Shaydin has turned up a few times in the week, and he appears to be happy with how my wounds are healing. He says it's the fastest he's ever seen an infected cut start to clear up, and that my fever's definitely fading.

I told him I was an impatient person.

He and Riza spent a long time together talking, which I happily broke up by sliding myself between them and giving the medic a mild death glare.

I think he understood.

Edward's arm is healing well and now he's taken to furiously trying to remove the shackles he's wearing. He couldn't scratch a circle onto them, with his hands (or teeth, so he's found) and had resorted to rubbing them along the floor, stating that he'd wear them away eventually.

This was up until Riza and I forbade him from it because the noise was atrocious.

Anyway, most of our meals have consisted of bread and water or milk, with the occasional cold soup or meat. It wasn't fun trying to make Edward have a drink on the day they brought milk, I'll tell you that much.

Anyway, I've decided that today I'm going to try sitting up.

I'm tired of lying here belly up on the floor like some kind of silly old ragdoll. Feels exposed and I don't like it.

I slip my left hand to my side, wincing at the ache in my formerly dislocated shoulder and try to push myself up on my elbows.

"Colonel! What are you doing?!" Riza's voice shoots across the room from where she's currently redressing Edward's shoulder with the bandages Shaydin left.

"Mnf," I grunt.

She hands Edward his bandages and limps over as fast as she can, but not fast enough. I'm already sitting.

"Ta-da," I pant, grinning but cringing a little at the same time. That hurt.

She shakes her head at me, sighing. "Please don't rush yourself, sir."

I never imagined there'd be a day where I'd count managing to sit up an achievement.

Edward gives a sort of smirk, and he finds a way to look both bemused, impressed, humoured and relieved at the same time. Except for the spark of anxiety behind his smile, a tiny glint of rust in gold eyes.

I don't know if it's for me or something else.

Later that day, Riza waves us over to Edward's corner, glancing up to make sure our lazy guard is still being lazy.

He is.

Let me tell you something, if that man was on my platoon, I'd be hammerng some diligence into him quick - I'm the only person allowed to slack on my team. I need the rest to do the work.

Oh, yes, and I suppose havig organised, responsible troops to fight for out nation might be a helpful factor too.

"Alright," Riza says quietly. "A while ago, I asked Shaydin if he'd help get us out of this place."

I, propped against a wall at this point, give her a stare. "What? You—You what?"

Riza makes shushing movements with her hands. "It's okay; I made sure he was on our side. Don't worry about betrayal. He was never actually _with_ the rebels to begin with."

I gape at her. "But… But still…! You shouldn't have just… They could have… You should have gotten my permission first."

"You were unconscious," she deadpans. "You were unconscious because you 'were sleepy'."

"Point to Riza," Edward says solemnly, closing his eyes all-knowingly and nodding. "The Flame has been burned."

I glare at him before raising a hand and smooshing my fist into his face. "I am Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. I will be Fuhrer. Burning things is how I make a living. Your argument is henceforth invalid and rejected."

He says nothing, too busy being smooshed by the awesome power of my fist. Then he utters, "You are also unable to stand, have no flame alchemy, and are more or less useless."

"Gak!" The heavy weight of something that feels suspiciously like helplessness and self-depreciation slams into my head and I double over.

"Enough you two!" hisses Riza, slapping my hand off Edward's face. I shake the unknown object off my head (I watch it fly across the room and discover it is the word 'useless') and look at her.

"Yes?"

"He's agreed to send an S. O. S. message to Eastern Command for us."

"Did you send it in—"

"Yes, it's in our frequency and code."

"And it gives—"

"Our approximate coordinates supplied by Shaydin."

"And you sent for—"

"At least enough soldiers to take one hundred and fifty men."

I struggle to think of anything else she might have forgotten. A thought hits me and I straighten.

"Yes, I've included a request for a pair of ignition gloves. I'm sure Lieutenant Colonel Hughes will remember where they're stored."

Lieutenant Hawkeye knows _everything. _How is that? How does she know _everything? _It baffles me.

"I've sorted it all, sir," she says firmly.

I search her face for a few seconds before breaking into my characteristic smirk. "You have a wonderful ability to get things done fast and effectively, do you know that, Lieutenant? Good job."

"Thank you, sir," she says with a salute. "My apologies for not informing you of my plan earlier."

"Well," Edward says with a wide, toothy yawn. "I suppose all that's left is to try and heal as fast as possible while we wait for the cavalry charge."

I nod. "Yes. I s'pose so. And didn't I tell you we'd find a way out of this?"

"Technically, the _Lieutenant_ found a way out, but whatever," Edward responds, shrugging. "I just hope Al doesn't get too worked up over it."

"I wouldn't worry," Riza breaks in. "Alphonse is well aware that you can handle yourself. It's the _reverse_ I'm more concerned about."

"What do you mean?" Edward cocks his head, puzzled.

"Remember the time Alphonse went missing for a day?" I say, smoothing out my hair.

Edward's face immediately becomes devoid of all emotion and he dully states, "What about it?"

"You went mad," Riza and I state in unison.

"He's a seven-foot suit of armour. What harm could possibly have befallen him?" she says.

"The kid's near invincible. He's an alchemist, plus he's got crazy skill in hand-to-hand, not to mention quite an intimidating appearance," I add.

"Plus, we were in the middle of a populated area and he'd only been gone for just over six hours."

"And he did say he might be a while."

"But he's Al!" Edward protests. "Al! Alphonse! He's just…Al."

The boy lapses into silence looking at his boots. "He's Al."

Riza and I exchange a glance.

"So," I begin with a slightly sarcastic undertone. "He's Al. This much we have figured out. This makes it different how, exactly?"

"It's hard to explain," Edward mumbles. "It's different 'cause he's Al."

"Elaborate," I order.

"He's younger than I am. I'm his older brother."

"That's been established."

"And I don't like it when I don't know where he is."

"Because…?"

"Because I can't protect him if I don't know where he is. It's scary, not knowing. He could be anywhere. Anything could happen and I wouldn't even know."

"I see," I said, even though I sort of didn't. I think Riza did though. "Pretend I don't get it and explain further."

"Put it this way, sir," Riza starts. "If I were to suddenly be announced M. I. A., how would you feel?"

And I understood. "Oh. Okay."

"Get it?" Edward asks, fiddling with the velcro strap on his shoe.

"Yeah," I respond, nodding. "I get it now."

"It's more like an instinct than anything else," Edward mutters. "And I'm always edgy when I'm not with him."

That much I'd seen for myself. The quietness, the jumpiness, the moodiness, the even _more_ stubbornly stoic attitude…

All were signs of the nerves Edward had just described.

We all fall silent.

Edward plays with his shoes.

An owl hoots somewhere.

I look at the ceiling.

The fire outside the cell flares unexpectedly.

I sigh.

Edward fiddles with his remaining fingers.

There's a loud curse and a snap as he breaks one.

And now we're the ones lying in wait for our prey to fall into our trap.

Like animals.

* * *

"This is the last straw, girl. Talk!"

"No."

My friendly torturer has taken me out for the fourth time since the night I found Edward at Roy's side. It's been a week and a half, I think. This time, however, I'm tied to a rickety wooden chair.

"Fine! Fine!" he throws his hands up in the air in an exasperated manner and stomps over to the door. "Norm'ly I wouldn't consider usin' a tactic so low down..."

"You? Low down? No way," I bite out sarcastically.

He gives me a glare. "But for someone as stubborn's you, I'm a-gonna make an exception."

I cock my head slightly, immediately suspicious.

He slams a fist against the door, shouting, "Bring the runt in!"

I'm terrified by the words I know are going to come roaring through that door.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING A RUNT SO SMALL YOU NEED TO GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR TO HEAR, YOU BRUTE?!"

"No…" I whisper weakly. "Edward, no…"

The boy in question is shoved into the room, stumbling forward and glaring at anything and everything. His eyes widen as they meet mine.

"Lieutenant?!"

I return his gaze, a horrible sense of foreboding flooding my body.

"Now, will ya bark and whine, or'll I hafta beat the pup?"

I shake my head slowly, still staring at Edward.

He seems to grasp the situation, the confused shade of his expression fading into cold realisation. His face hardens.

"Don't tell him anything! Don't say a single word! No matter what he does, don't you dare talk!"

I nod faintly, anxiety rising in my already cramped chest.

From this point onward, Edward takes the bashing. After about five hits, he jumps back up and swings his his shackled arms at that beast of a man's head.

I know from experience that fighting back is a bad idea.

Edward yelps as he finds himself thrown roughly at the wall, trying to protect his shoulder from the impact.

Tomato (as I have inventively dubbed him) kicks him back across the room where he skids to a stop at my feet.

His eyes flicker up to my face and he mutters, "Not a word", before staggering back to his feet.

I wince at every blow he's belted with, biting my lip to keep from shouting for them to stop.

Finally, an hour later, Tomato gives a frustrated roar and gives up, storming from the room.

We're left in painful silence, the only noise Edward's grunting as he pushes himself up. He sits up and looks at the door the monster left through, blows a stray strand of hair off his face and huffs, "Who took a dump in his breakfast?"

I wrench my hands around in the ropes that bind me, but fail to loosen them. "Come here," I order with a flick of my head.

Edward complies, limping over and standing in front of me. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay? You're not seriously hurt anywhere, are you? None of your cuts opened?"

"No," Edward says with a shrug. "I managed to shield myself with my auto-mail for the most part. I'll have a few nice new bruises for sure and Winry's gonna beat me to a bloody pulp, but apart from that…there's…"

Suddenly Edward's on the floor. "...nothing…"

"Ed! A-are you okay?! What's wrong?!"

He shifts his head a little. "I think I finally broke myself. I can't move."

I sigh. "You're just exhausted."

"Oh."

_Clack._

We both give a start as the door opens again and someone steps in. We relax a little as we see it's Shaydin.

"Evening," he greets us with his usual softness.

I return it, but Edward gives a simple "Nf."

The young medic drifts over, case in tow. He unties me from the chair and helps Edward to his feet.

"You look wrecked," he comments as we hoist the boy's limp frame onto his feet. He stands unsteadily, leaning heavily against my side. "And Miss Hawkeye, I sent the message as you requested."

We make our way back to the cell, Shaydin telling us he didn't think blindfolds necessary for the two corridors we needed to traverse.

He opened the door and we went in, all cringing at the sight that awaited us.

Burning black eyes, teeth glinting in a half-drawn snarl, a nose screwed up with anger.

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

The only noise is the soft drumming of fingers on cold concrete.

"Where. Were. You?" Roy growls, finally breaking the silence, his tone low and his voice lit with impatient anger. He's sitting against the far wall of the cell, glaring at us.

The rage is imminent in his eyes, but I'm sure we can all see the fear and anxiety behind it. The coal-black depths burn across the room at the three of us, both Edward and Shaydin wilting under the ferocity of his look and tone.

I don't reply, simply keeping my eyes locked with his as best I can.

"Respond!" he snaps, slamming a palm on the ground without flinching. "That's an order!"

"Yes, sir," I say softly, helping Edward over to his mattress. Shaydin hovers near the doorway, looking unsure as to whether he should stay and check us or leave whilst Roy's temper flares.

"We had a meeting with a violent, beastly man who very much wanted information on our military," I say quietly, neatening up Edward's hair for him and keeping my face as unreadable as I am able. "That's all."

"So you were tortured." Roy's fury sets his words alight with malice, and I get the feeling he could set something on fire even without his gloves. "Did he get anything out of you?"

"No, sir."

"Good. How many times has he pulled you out for this without me knowing?"

"Six. They only took Fullmetal this once, though."

"And they beat you? Both of you?"

"…Yes, sir."

"And lastly, why was I not informed of this?!"

There goes all that hard-earned logic. "They threatened to hurt you if I told you. Both of you. And in your condition, I didn't think we needed that."

"If it makes any difference," Edward adds. "I didn't know about this either."

Roy ignores him, instead leaning forward and putting all his weight on his left hand. Before I nor anyone else can stop him, he's on his feet.

"I'm going to burn them," he says decisively. "Slowly and painfully. Each and every individual one of them. Who was he? What did he look like?"

He shoots metaphorical spears across the room with his eyes and Edward shrinks away from him. "I… I didn't really see. It was dark…."

I nod. "I'm sure they'll all get what they deserve eventually."

"I'm going to make that eventually into a right now."

"Without gloves?" I retort, abandoning my efforts in brushing Edward off to stand and face him. "Without gloves, barely able to stand and with two broken ribs? How do you hope to pull that off?"

"I don't know! But I will! You just watch." He steps forward, surprisingly swiftly for someone in his physical position (his limp is barely distinguishable and you would never be able to tell his chest is even hurt), and points at Shaydin, who has now moved directly into the centre of the doorframe to deny Roy passage. "You. Boy. Move. Now."

You know he's serious when he gets down to single syllabic sentences.

"I am afraid I cannot comply," the medic responds, his voice gentle and quiet, as usual.

Roy bares his teeth in a blatant snarl, taking another step forward. "If you don't move, _so help me_, I'll—"

I grab his shoulder tightly, bringing his wild glare back to me. "Sir. I advise that you don't take that course of action."

"Refusal to obey your commanding officer, Lieutenant?" he murmurs, his voice a complete contrast to the burning black abysses of his eyes. "That's not like you. Not like you at all."

I maintain my composure. "When the situation calls, I am prepared to take the necessary actions to protect the mission and my comrades."

Roy's eyes flare. "Really? You know you can get—"

"You two!" Edward shouts. "Stop fighting right now!"

Both of us fall silent and watch Edward out of the corners of our eyes. He's sitting bolt-upright, looking furious and yelling at us.

"How the hell do you think we're gonna make it, all locked up in this tiny little room if we're all snapping at each other's heels?! Yes, bastard, you _are_ staying in this room, and yes Lieutenant, the brute with the tomato for a nose _will_ be burned to a crisp the moment the opportunity arises! Until then, both of you kiss and make up, then shut up, then sit down and stop acting like a couple of wild animals and more like civil humans!"

He breaks off panting, then fixes us with a gleaming golden death glare that even Roy himself melts under.

We both went a little red in the face at the 'kiss and makeup' line, but calm down and become quiet nonetheless.

I nod, removing my hand from Roy's shoulder and he immediately loses the stiffness he'd previously exhibited, slouching and closing his eyes.

The fire has burnt out.

"Right," he mumbles, trudging back over to his mattress and sitting down, facing away from us all. He places his head in his hands and sighs heavily. "Apologies. I was being stupid. All I wanted was to go and hurt whoever had touched you two. It was just the anger doing all the acting…like an animal. Sorry."

He falls silent, running his hands through his hair and closing his eyes again.

Edward's brow is creased, and his gaze is fixed stubbornly on Roy's deflated form. "Better."

"I'm being told off by a kid," comes Roy's muffled, dejected voice. "This is definitely a low point in my life."

I make my way to my own mattress and settle there, crossing my legs and looking at Shaydin. "Are you going now or would you like to check us?"

"I will check you. I might as well, seeing as I am here now."

He heads for me first, probably since I seem the least volatile, and starts with my ankle. He says he's shocked by my endurance, and that I really shouldn't be able to walk.

I told him I had a high tolerance.

Having to put up with a large group of immature men has that sort of effect on you. _Especially _when the _leader_ of said group is none other than one Roy Mustang.

He gave me some ointment to put on the cuts and bruises all over my body before moving on. He heads towards Edward, but all he manages to get the boy to do is show him the wound on his shoulder before he promptly falls asleep.

And that's probably a good thing, taking into consideration the fact that he's young so he needs a lot of sleep, it's the middle of the night, and he's utterly exhausted beyond comprehension.

When he gets to Roy, he comments on how he's glad of how rapidly the man is improving, but only gets a few half-hearted 'mm-hm's in reply.

He turns Roy's limp hands around to inspect his skin, looks at his leg and changes the dressing, checks his broken wrist is still setting right (it is; the splints he makes are strong. I can tell as the one supporting my ankle is still intact, even after so many beatings) and takes a look at his broken ribs.

Roy stares blankly at his hands the whole time.

Shaydin announces that all of us are healing at an astounding rate, and he's surprised we haven't sustained extra injuries from the interrogations. He adds in a lower tone that our soldiers should be here in just over a week.

So, all in all, the outlook is bright.

But I fear for the next time someone comes to take me away.

* * *

_Bam! Bam! Bam!_

"Remember, don't kill 'em! We need 'em as hostages!"

There's a flash of alchemical reaction and suddenly Edward's created a concrete wall in front of us to act as shield against the bullets.

Riza and I dash for it, slamming into it and ducking down. I can't see Edward anymore, so I suppose he's gone over to take them on.

Riza pops above the wall a couple of times to take a few shots at the men. I can hear shouts as she hits a few, but it's pointless. We're so heavily outnumbered, she doesn't stand a chance.

They're just toying with us.

I shoot around the side of the barricade, but I'm out of ammo in a short time. I can hear the sounds of Edward's fighting, but the second I try to take a look, a bullet whizzes by my ear.

"Okay," I say to Riza as she ducks back down. "It's risky, but I've got a plan."

I hazard a glance up and catch a glimpse of Edward's red coat flapping around in the midst of the enemy, and flashes of light illuminate the room as he transmutes.

"I reckon my gloves are dry, but there's no way I can take aim without either burning down the building or hitting Fullmetal. And you know those guys are shooting to take us down, but not to kill us. They need us alive. There are only twenty or so, after all. We might be able to bring them down in hand-to-hand."

Riza nods, her face lined with worry. "Are you saying you want us to run right out there?"

I nod. "They can't shoot at us in a close fight; they'll risk hitting their own."

She sighs, but grips her gun and nods in return. "Roger that, sir. When will we go?"

I frown at the barricade. "…Now!"

We leap out of hiding and sprint for the rebels, Riza shooting the whole time.

Edward is flying about the group like some kind of acrobat, clapping his hands and leaving blocks and hands of cement sticking out off the walls, floor and even the ceiling. I can see blood dripping from his body, though.

I feel a slight twinge in my right arm, but I ignore it. The adrenaline of the situation sets my heart racing and I bodily slam right into the closest man, shouting at the top of my lungs.

Riza stays at my back and we fight in a tag team formation, both of us keeping a subconscious eye on Edward.

There are about five men left standing apart from us when ten more flood into the building, guns blazing.

Edward reacts fast, slapping the ground and sending a wave of concrete rippling across the room and knocking them all off balance.

We try to evade the bullets as best we can, but I can see blood pouring from my arm, and immediately the pain kicks in.

I've been shot.

Luckily for us, there are less guns in this group, most of them being armed with blades. Edward quickly transmutes his arm and charges for them flipping and zig-zagging to evade whatever bullets are being shot at him.

Once again, my opportunity for flames is eliminated.

I shrug and follow Edward, Riza at my side. The ten fresh enemies surge forward and I allow for Riza to take aim and fire away at them before she stops to conserve her ammunition and we go back to our close combat.

By this stage, blood is streaming down Riza's arm from a bullet graze and there are bruises and cuts all over her skin.

I can now tell I've been hit in the arm and in the leg. There are bullet grazes all over me, and there's a nice big slash on my leg.

I start trembling as the adrenaline wears off and the exhaustion and blood loss sets in. But I keep going anyway, determined not to leave the whole fight to Riza.

"Sir, are you able to continue fighting?" asks Riza, panting.

"Affirmative, Lieutenant," I tell her, striking out with an elbow to hit a man in the face. "And you?"

"I can keep going."

"Fullmetal!" I shout. To my disappointment, I don't get a response. "Fullmetal!"

"Whaddaya want, bastard?!"

Phew.

"You okay on your own?!"

"Hell yeah! I'm grea—_S***!"_

"Fullmetal? Fullmetal?! Fullmetal!"

I whirl around just in time to see a huge, muscled man swinging a wild hammerfist at Riza's head. Her back is turned to him; she's got her hands full with two other men.

"Lieutenant, look out!" I yell, and jump for her.

"SIR!"

_Wham!_

How'd the ceiling get where the floor is? Holy crap, what just happened…? It just moved…without even me moving…and I just…_ow_…

What the hell?

The whole world is blurring and twisting around me as I try to find the floor. I reach out forward and claw at the concrete, staggering to my feet, my ears ringing like fire alarms. _Fire alarms…_

"Ugh…"

"Colonel!" Riza's voice echoes in my ears as I try to figure out where I am and what I'm trying to do.

Who are these people? Why is everything…so blurry…and why can't I… Why is the world on a tilt?

I stumble sideways, clutching my head. Fear rockets through my body as I try to work out why I'm so dizzy.

"L…Lieutenant…!" I call out, watching her take on another man.

"Colonel!" she shouts to me. "Are you okay?! What happened?!"

I stumble again, tripping this time and don't even feel anything as I land on my chin. I can see Edward's face. He's down too, staring at me.

He's mouthing something, but I can't hear his words over the ringing. I blink several times, trying to bring the room into focus.

What on earth…? Did I just… Did a bomb just go off or what? Bombs. Bombs and guns… Like Ishbal… Like the war…

War - I have to flame them, right…? That's what I have to do, isn't it? Just kill them…?

I stretch forward my hand, shaking with effort, and try to angle my hand into the position I need. Almost… Almost there…

"Mustang, don't do that! _Stop!"_

It's Edward shouting at me to stop. Wait, Edward? No, if he's here, then this isn't the war. What am I thinking?! I could have killed us all with a flame like that!

"Fullmetal…" I call to him softly. "Fullmetal, what's going on…? Why can't I stand…? Why am I so…"

_Dizzy?_

I slide my arms underneath my chest and try to push myself up. A heavy weight slams into my back, pushing me down.

"And you'll stay down there, if you know what's good for you," says the man on me.

I roll myself over, snatching his leg and pulling him down with me. I swing a punch at his head and it hits home, but then I'm pulled backwards and a foot is stomped down onto on my side.

A great, burning pain flows over my chest and I let out a sharp cry. Half the world is covered by fuzzy darkness, and the rest I can see is smudged and impossible to make out.

_"Colonel!"_

I strike out randomly in futile attempts to hit the attackers, but it's like fighting shadows. I can't see, can't hear, and everything is just white pain.

_Bam!_

I shout again as another bullet lodges deep into my arm.

"Stop shooting! He's done for!"

An endless barrage of blows hails down on me, and I take swings at anything I can. I'm not done yet! This…isn't…how…it's gonna…end…!

I swipe out one last time, my arm screaming in protest. Something grabs hold of my wrist and forces my shoulder back at an angle it's not meant to go to, and a hot snap of pain drives through me.

I fall limp. I can't do any more.

I crack open one eye and I can just see Edward off in the distance, sprawled on the ground. Someone grabs his hood and lifts him up, shouts at him, but he's already gone.

I shift my glance to Riza. She's still fighting. I'm crushed by my inability to come to her aid. I can't bear to watch her struggle like this. I can't bear to look away.

"Lieu…te…na…nt…" I whisper, hearing my own pulse in my ears and seeing my own blood pool on the ground before me. "Run."

The last thing I see before everything fades away is her eyes watching me; she's shaking her head. "Never."

* * *

_Clunk._

It's the middle of the night. I jerk awake, angered that I fell asleep whilst pretending to rest. The noise causes me to snap into a sitting position, and I turn my head just in time to see a huge, hulking man grab slap his hand over Riza's mouth and pull her to her feet.

She looks at me, her eyes lit with both fear, horror and shock. But it's not fear for what will happen to her, I can see that. She'll take anything she has to, do anything. She's strong.

It's fear for me, because she knows what I'm about to do.

I can't see Edward anywhere, so they must have already taken him. I leap to my feet as fast as possible and charge for the man's back, a snarl held in my throat escalating to a ferocious cry which sounds almost inhuman.

"Raaargh! Don't you dare touch her!"

_THUMP!_

_SMACK!_

_THUD!_

I land one wild punch on the back of his head before I find myself flying across the tiny room to the back wall.

An agonising bolt of pain burns all around my body, sending a horrible, cramping, stabbing sensation deep into my chest.

"Ugh…" I moan, trying to push myself up but sliding back down into a crumpled heap.

"You stupid idiot!" comes Edward's enraged shout from somewhere in the corridor. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

As I gasp my breaths in short, painful bursts, the rebel looks back at me with a sadistic, gleeful sneer and growls, "And stay down, ya filthy cur."

As I watch Riza being torn away from the room, my entire body seethes with a deep, sinister unfathomable rage.

All the hatred I thought I was capable of feeling surges as I watched his back disappear down the hallway, and Riza casts an anxious glance back at me.

I'm going to hurt that man in ways he doesn't even know possible.

* * *

I wait for three long, difficult hours, having struggled to a sitting position and leaning on the wall I'd previously been thrown against.

Finally, my subordinates are returned to me.

The first thing I do is muster all the strength left in my body and haul myself to my feet to stumble over to them, my heart racing.

"Are you okay?"

_SLAP!_

Riza lowers her hand, glaring at me. She states coldly,"Yes, sir. I apologise for my breach in etiquette, sir."

I smile a little. "I guess I kinda deserved that…"

"You definitely deserved it. To the moon and back," she says stonily, her face harbouring a dark anger.

Suddenly, it all melts away and is replaced by a flood of relief. "You… You idiot. I was worried sick about you the whole time we were out there! He threw you into a _wall!"_

I let out a shaky breath. "I was worried about you two, as well."

Edward nods exhaustedly, taking a step forward. "Good job not dying, bastard."

He slaps me on the shoulder and makes a beeline for his bed, collapsing onto it with a pained exclamation. "Geez... They don't hafta be such jerks about it... I mean, if they want intel...they should try asking nicely...then I might...actually...answer..." And with that, he's out like a light.

I reach out with one clumsy hand, now feeling quite tired myself, and pat Riza on the head like I haven't done in many, _many_ years. "Good job. You came back safe and sound... That's all I needed."

That's the last I remember of that night. I think I blacked out.

* * *

Head hurts.

I sit up and look around, then lie back down.

Too tired for this. It's still the middle of the freakin' night. Being beaten about again last night was about all I could take. I only vaguely remember it; most of it's just a haze of pain and thoughts of Alphonse.

Alphonse… Where are you? What are you doing? Are you safe? Do you miss me? Do you even know how badly things have gone?

I look around the room again from my lying position, taking in the fact that Roy's face is no longer tense with the effort of dealing with the pain (quite the opposite, actually; if only Hughes were here… The pictures of Roy drooling in his sleep would be all over Eastern Command) and that Riza is lying on her back with her hands balled into loose fists.

I think she might be smiling.

I roll over to go back to sleep, but then I start shivering. Cold.

I look out of the cell door and see that the fire has gone out. That's why it's so cold…

I curl myself in as tight as possible, keeping my arms as close as I can to my body and close my eyes again, hoping to get some more sleep.

But it's so damn cold!

This stupid arm of mine (sorry, Win)… Can't wait 'til I'm finally rid of it. I lie awake for a while longer, shivering like some kind of hyperactive guitar string and cursing under my breath.

My breath itself has already become puffs of fog.

So…cold… Blah. There's no way I can warm up; I don't have extra clothes or blankets or anything. Dammit, dammit, dammit! So frikkin' cold!

"Here."

I jump at the unexpected voice and the feeling of something soft and warm being draped over my shoulders.

My eyes snap open and I turn my head to find Roy standing over me, looking down with a face that betrays nothing.

He almost looks as if he's trying to pretend he didn't just do what he did. I sit up and pull off his jacket, handing it up to him.

"I don't want it," I tell him firmly, but quietly so Riza won't hear. "Keep it. Or better yet, give it to the Lieutenant."

"She's already got a jacket," Roy points out. "And she's not over in the corner freezing her ass off."

"I've got a jacket too," I protest.

"If you won't take it, at least wear it 'til I light a fire," Roy says decisively.

"A fire?" I scoff. "What with?"

"I'm the Flame Alchemist, genius," Roy bites out with a scathing glare in my direction. "I didn't spend half my life studying particle theory, energy transfer and heat conduction, convection and radiation only to figure out how to light fire in one way."

"But what'll you bu—"

"Watch. Just watch."

He drags the spare mattress out of the corner and pulls it over to the space between Riza and me, then sits down for a few seconds to catch his breath.

He walks around the room a few times and gathers some loose rocks.

Then he sets them in a small ring and settles himself beside it. He selects one of the stones and scratches it in a circle within and around the rest of the stones, and adds more marks as he goes.

I crane my neck and make out a salamander and flame amongst several straight lines and triangles. It's a transmutation circle, I think. Yeah, it's his flame alchemy.

"But don't you need a—" I start.

"Shhh."

He tears open the mattress with a loud _shhhrip_, and I'm surprised the Lieutenant is still sleeping. He reaches into it and starts piling the straw stuffing inside his circle, panting.

"There," he says, huffing a little. "Setup done. Now…"

He picks up his stone again and scratches another circle on the ground. This one is a simple circle, it's one to draw a certain type of element from a mixture.

Roy touches the circle lightly and it flashes, leaving a little dirty grey rock in a small dent within the circle.

"Flint," Roy states dully, picking it up and showing it to me as if it's something I've never seen before.

He duplicates the last sequence and holds up another stone. "Flint."

"Observe." He holds them both above his pile of straw and says, "Friction."

He strikes them together a few times to produce a spark, then lets it settle on the straw before he slaps a hand onto a small section of the circle outside of the stone ring and the straw bursts into flames.

"Behold; fire," he says with a flourish of his hands and a tired smirk. "Not as flashy as I like, but effective nonetheless."

I look at him, surprised. He's better at alchemy than he lets on. But it looks like that last transmutation took a lot out of him; I wouldn't be surprised if he can't move.

"Plus, the straw's a little damp so it won't burn that fast. It should go for a couple of hours at least," Roy explains, his breathing still laboured and his face strained with the exertion. "Oughta keep us warm 'til sleepy-head over there realises his fire's died and lights it up again."

He looks at me and waves his hand in a half-hearted beckon. "C'mon. Drag that thing closer."

I obey, standing up and pulling my mattress across the floor to the small fire. Now I'm situated on the left of it, Roy just in front of it and Riza sleeping off to the right. Roy's mattress is away on Riza's right, so I walk over and fetch it for him.

He gives me a grateful nod and a mumbles, "Thanks."

Sitting on the straw-stuffed thing, he inspects his right wrist, rubbing around the wooden splint tenderly. "Ouch. My wrist hurts now," he says.

I pick up the stone he used to light the fire and inspect it. "So you _can_ transmute. Flint, at least."

"Or something similar," he replies, pursing his lips and placing his chin on his palm. "I'm not exactly sure if it's one hundred percent flint or not... I haven't had to use that method in years." He shrugs. "But it got the job done, and that's all I needed."

He lies down on his back to look at the ceiling. "Hah. That was tiring."

I lie down too, also on my back. My shoulder still stings from the bullet wound and my other arm's auto-mail and it hurts to sleep on. I'm used to it by now, but the bruises on my side are giving me trouble and sleeping on my back seemed the most easiest way to go.

"'Night," I say.

I think Roy mumbled it back, but it might just have been a snore. Either way, it's enough for me.

* * *

**ALMOST THERE!**


	3. Chapter 3

**AND NOW, THE EPIC FINALE!**

* * *

Six days have passed since the night I lit the fire in the cell.

Riza and Edward have been taken three times, and I don't understand why the man keeps leaving me behind. I've tried attacking him, but he beats me down every time.

However! I've studied his face. I know what he looks like. I've even managed to find out from Shaydin that his name's John McAddam.

As soon as I have my gloves, I swear…

Just you wait, McAddam. Just you wait.

I've noticed something else, too. The morning after I'd lit the fire, Edward had moved back towards his corner. But not all the way.

I brushed the ashes away and moved our beds back to the original positions; mine somewhat in the centre and Riza's a couple of feet to my left.

Each night, Edward's mattress creeps a little closer to our two. I can't figure out whether it's really happening or if I'm just imagining it.

I'm pretty sure he is moving closer to us.

Shaydin tells us that he reckons our forces will be here any day now, and we told him to hang around our cell as much as possible so he didn't get caught and shot at as a rebel.

He's currently sitting outside with the sleepy-dumb guard, cross-legged on a mattress similar to ours. He falls asleep too, eventually, and so do we.

Before I get to sleep, I turn my head to a more comfortable position. I see Riza's eyes staring straight back at me and I avert my gaze as fast as possible, embarrassed.

That's the last I see.

The next morning, I wake up and assess our surroundings as I normally do, and I now know for sure Edward has most definitely moved.

Because he's right in between Riza and I.

Snoozing away peacefully and totally oblivious to the fact that Riza and I are both staring at him and wondering how on earth he'd managed to sneak in there without us noticing.

And, more importantly, how on earth he'd managed to grab both of our hands in his sleep and touch them together whilst wearing shackles.

We both remove out hands gently, and I find myself going red. Edward continues to sleep, his intelligent golden-amber eyes hidden away from the harsh world behind his eyelids.

About half an hour later, he wakes up, stretches and asks how in the seven hells he'd ended up in this position.

I tell him he must sleepwalk.

After breakfast, (hooray, bread and butter again) we're all sitting about in dead silence when a noise catches my attention.

"Hoo hooo hoo! Hooo hooo hooo! Hooo hoo hooo hooo!"

I would almost have believed it to be an owl, if not for the repetitive pattern of the hoots and it being daytime. And the fact that it's morse code.

_Dot dash dot… Dash dash dash… Dash dot dash dash… Thats… R… O… Y…_

"Only you, Hughes, you idiot," I growl under my breath. "The code changes to a _sparrow_ in the day."

I look up to the barred window of the cell, which is covered by a layer of fabric nailed to the wall to keep out snow, and sigh.

I stand up and make my way over to it, standing on tiptoe so that my head can just barely reach it. I tear off the fabric and look around, but fail to distinguish any person, soldier or otherwise.

I return the call and suddenly there's Maes' face right in the window.

"Hi, Roy. You look like you've been having fun!"

"Yeah, sure," I return sarcastically. "The time of my life."

Maes looks around inside the cell. "Hi, Hawkeye! Oh, Ed, you're here too! Awesome. Now I don't have to go looking for you."

Edward stands up and walks over joining me by the window. "Okay, not that it isn't great that you're here and all, but why _you_ of all people? I thought you were a desk worker."

"I do a bit of both," Maes says with a shrug. "I got bored at my post and wanted to come. Also I'm the only other person besides you and Hawkeye who knows where you keep your gloves. Which reminds me…"

He disappears for a second, then pops back up. "Here you go."

He reaches in through the bars and hands me a pair of ignition gloves, putting on a false accent and saying, "As you requested, sir."

I grab the gloves thankfully and grin. "Perfect."

I run my hands over the material and the circle on the back before slipping them on.

"Kept 'em dry for you and everything," Maes stated, pushing his glasses further up his nose and nodding proudly.

"You crumpled them," I point out dejectedly.

"It's kinda hard not to when they're wrapped in all my other provisions inside my bag."

"Ah, whatever," I say, flexing my hands impatiently. "Let's just get outta here. I'm sick of this place. Oh, and tell the guys not to attack the man travelling with us."

"Alright!" Maes says with a salute. "I'll tell them where you are, and tell 'em not to shoot at the guy with you."

He disappears from the window.

I limp over to the cell door and motion Shaydin over. He comes, and I whisper, "They're here. Lend me a pencil."

Shaydin nods and reaches into the pocket of his thick fur coat. He produces a tiny, battered pencil and hands me it through the bars.

"Fullmetal. Over here."

Edward heaves himself up and I grab his shackles, drawing a transmutation circle onto them. There's a flash, a crack and a clank as I break them off, and Edward grins.

"This is so much better," he says, rolling his wrist and moving his auto-mail shoulder. Everywhere from the elbow down hangs limp, but he seems pleased just to be free of the troublesome shackles.

Riza pushes herself up too, and Shaydin passes in a single crutch.

"It took me forever to sneak that in. I thought it may come in handy when you needed to run," he explains. "Please be careful when you do, though."

"Don't worry, you can keep a firm eye on us," I say, shrugging on my military jacket and wincing at the pain in my arms. "You'll be coming right along with us."

"H-huh?" Shaydin blinks at me, confused.

"Well, we can't have you being gunned down as a rebel, now, can we?" I say in a falsely surprised tone and smirking. "And how do you expect the Lieutenant to get out is she can't walk very far or fast?"

"You either," Edward adds, slapping me on the back and thouroughly killing my 'fully capable and unscathed' act.

Ow.

I roll my eyes and nod begrudgingly. "Yeah, yeah. There may be a chance I might need a little assisstance too…"

"'A little'?" Edward echoes. "Yeah, right. You'll prob'ly like, collapse halfway there and wail on the floor in a wonderful display of that melodrama that you love so much."

"Melodramatic? Me?! How dare you _suggest_ such a thing?! I'm _insulted_ at the very _thought_, Fullmetal! I simply _cannot comprehend_ the very _idea_ of it!"

"There! There you go! You're doing it right flipping now, man!"

"I'm taller than you are."

"Aargh! How dare you?! I am _so not short_, you egocentric pretty boy of an excuse for a representative of a low-down, miserable government who screams like a girl and is one hundred percent _useless when wet!"_

"There you have it, folks; a wonderful display of said 'melodrama', straight from the mouth of world-renowned pipsqueak, Edward Elric."

"I AM NOT A PIPSQUEAK, GET IT?!"

"O-ho! It seems as though the pipsqueak has been angered! Please, ladies and gentlemen, try to remain calm as we retrieve the sedatives…"

"YAARGH!"

"What an astounding occurance! You have just witnessed the mating cry of the Edward, and I believe it was aimed directly at the gorgeous young Winry Rockbell… Can our Edward win the affections of the Winry?"

"Gah! Shut the hell up!"

Shaydin watches us bicker from outside the cell as Riza stares at us blandly, her head shaking in disbelief. She turns to Shaydin and says, "This is how they express happiness. And anger. And disappointment, pain, boredom, excitement and a large range of other emotions."

I look over my shoulder mid-smirk and notice the corners of the young medic's mouth turn upwards in a smile. Before we know it, he's laughing; something we've never seen before. His deep blue eyes are lit with joy, his smile one of earnest amusement and happiness.

I take a moment to relish in the fuzzy warmth and fluffiness of it all before remembering he's laughing at me and Edward.

Then Riza rolls her eyes and smiles at my irritated expression - I for one think she looks much prettier when she's smiling - and shakes her head at me.

Edward grins and laughs too, throwing his hands on his hips. I realise that these are two of my most precious subordinates, and the two whom I need to look out for the most.

Riza because I know she'll want to throw herself in the way of any blow headed my way, even if it means her own death.

Edward because he's so young and even though he thinks he's seen and done it all, is still so naïve, and at times vulnerable.

I have to protect them like family.

"Alright, alright," I say, waving my hand in a command for silence. "That's enough."

Riza rises to her feet and limps to the door, taking the crutch and looking to me. "What are your orders?"

"First off, Fullmetal, break open that door. As quietly as you can. We don't want to wake that guard."

"Okay! That I can do! Gimme three seconds."

_Clap._

_Slap._

_BANG!_

"I said as _quietly_ as you could!"

"That _was_ me being quiet! And anyway, he's still asleep! Look, not even stirring!"

I sigh. I suppose the thought of Edward having some form of stealth mode was a little too far-fetched.

"Okay. Step two," I announce, dusting off my uniform the powdered concrete Edward's explosion just created. "I don't feel like sitting here and wating for Hughes to come get us, do you?"

Edward shakes his head madly, his braid flapping helplessly like a rope being mauled by a dog. "Na-uh! Let's go!"

"Lieutenant?"

"If you order it."

"Great. Because I just did. Come on. Fullmetal, can you fight?"

"Heck yeah!" Edward replies. "This broken auto-mail's gonna be a pain, but my ankle's perfectly fine and the rest of my injuries are just half-healed bumps and scratches. I can fight fine!"

"Good. You take up the rear; deal with anyone who tries to attack us from behind. Stick a few walls up to slow them down. And if you think we're getting over-whelmed on either side, go crazy with one of those mid-range alchemic stunts of yours."

I turn to Shaydin, who now stands in the doorway of our cell. "We need you to direct us, so help the Lieutenant along and I'll stay a little bit behind you. I'll fire off some sparks and take down whoever comes at us from in front."

Shaydin looks puzzled. "What exactly do you mean by 'fire off sparks'?"

"H-hey!"

A rebel steps into the corridor, pointing at us and gaping. "What are you doing?! What's going on here?!"

I raise my eyebrows. "You wanna know what I meant?"

_Click-snap-boom!_

The rebel's on the floor, wheezing, limp and looking lightly toasted - just what I'd aimed for.

"I missed you!" I proclaim, sighing happily and going a little red in the face (I have dubbed this, 'doing a Hughes') as I shove my hands in my pockets. "My lovely gloves!"

Shaydin stares at me.

"Yes," Edward says, closing his eyes and nodding. He opens one and looks at me with a concerned expression on his face as I whistle joyfully and grin. "He is definitely a mentally retarded pyromaniac."

"Oh, now don't say that," I scold. "These gloves are merely an extension of my own body! It's like you getting your auto-mail repaired or something like that. They're almost a part of me, y'know? 'Cause I've used 'em for so long? I can almost sense how they feel… And right now, they're happy to see me. I love them because they represent my own strength and will reaching across space every time I use them. They fight for the good side, yeah? I always felt like they—"

Edward and Riza walk right past me and out of the cell and begin to ask Shaydin for directions, blatantly ignoring my speech of joy at the reunion of me and my extension of will.

Phooey.

By the way, I am not mentally retarded. Or a pyromaniac. I just fight with fire. That doesn't make me a pyromaniac. That's like saying Maes is obessive, or something like that… Oh, wait. He probably is.

Never mind.

* * *

We're running through a corridor as best we can, Riza with her limp and Roy with his cracked ribs. He can't breathe easily; even I can tell that much.

Luckily for us, his flames are coming in handy. As soon as an enemy steps in front of us, he snaps his finger and they're no longer trouble. I transmute the occasional wall behind us to slow down anyone who might follow, but otherwise there isn't much I need to do.

Did the Colonel give me an easy job on purpose?

Meh. Whatever. We're getting out of here, and back to Alphonse, so that's all that really matters to me now. I can see Roy beginning to tire out now, so I run up behind him and ask, "Okay there, bastard?"

"…Fine…" he huffs out between breaths, his face pained as the exertion gets him panting. It's obviously hurting his chest.

"Sure?" I insist, cocking my head and transmuting another wall behind us. "I can help, if you want."

"Nah," he replies. "S'okay."

"If you're sure."

He gives a wordless nod and raises his hand above Riza's and Shaydin's heads to take aim at three men who're unlucky enough to have run into us.

"Stop now or we'll—"

_Boom!_

And they're down.

Roy lets out a hacking cough and rubs his side, but keeps running anyways. This is starting to get me concerned. Should I do something? I mean, he seems to be managing okay. But us type, we're often worse off than we look, aren't we? So maybe I should…

Whoa!

Roy lets out a curse as he trips over an inconspicuous pipe on the floor and falls forward, trying to break his fall but not quite getting there.

I leap forward, and slip in sideways as fast as I can to catch him on my back. He grunts as his injured ribs come into contact with me, but it'll be a lot better than hitting the hard floor.

Roy lets out a huffing breath of relief, still leaning on my back, before shakily straightening up and running his hand over the top of his head, unintentionally flattening out his sweaty black hair. "Thanks for the save, Fullmetal…"

"Anytime," I say. "_Now_ do you want some help?"

Roy doesn't say anything as Riza and Shaydin pause for the latter to call back, "Are you okay back there?"

Roy sighs and looks at me. "Alright. Just lend me a hand 'til we're outta here, then."

I walk up on Roy's right, offering him my shoulder to lean on. He takes it, putting his arm around me, and together we start off after Riza and Shaydin at a light jog.

Roy complains that strategically, he and Shaydin should be at the front and me with Riza so that he can snap out flames without having to avoid hitting the two in front of us and so that Shaydin can direct.

I think he just wants to keep Shaydin away from Riza.

We've fallen into a pattern; every time an enemy appears, Riza and Shaydin dodge to the sides and Roy flies a flame right down the middle at them. So far we haven't had any attacks from behind, so my walls must be doing their job. This was up until…

_Bam!_

"Ack!" A blast of pain shoots up the inside of my leg and I fall down onto my knees, feeling blood seep out of my thigh. I struggle back up, clutching the back of my leg. If my knowledge of human anatomy is correct, there's an important artery in that part of my leg.

Crap.

"Fullmetal! Are you okay?!"

"Just got shot…in the leg…" I growl, tearing the tattered sleeve off my red cloak and tying it tightly around the wound to block the blood. Ow, _ow!_

"Well, well! A traitor, a mangy cur, a scrawny pup and our stubborn li'l b****! And that was me last bullet, too!"

It's McAddam, oh, f***, it's McAddam. This isn't gonna go down well with—

Roy freezes on the spot and then whirls around, his energy regenerated as he stops checking me over. "You!"

S***.

I grab the inside of Roy's sleeve and hold on tightly, in case he decides to do something stupid.

"Me," McAddam replies, swaggering forward and grinning gleefully. "Hey there, mili'try scum!"

Roy raises his free hand and snaps his fingers in one swift movement, his teeth bared in an infuriated snarl.

Smoke and brick dust explodes in the corridor, obscuring our vision of the hulking beast of a man.

We wait a couple of moments as it clears, all of us shocked to see the man still standing there, his face taking on an expression of mild surprise.

"Whoa, didn't know ya could do that, cur!" he says. "Now I'm almost glad a didn't take ya out fer questioning!"

"So you should be!" Roy barks, drawing back his arm and sending out another bolt of flames with a large swing. "Burn, you bastard!"

There's another huge eruption of dust as his flame explodes at high velocity, setting all our ears ringing and sending a backlash of chalky cloud back at us.

He probably didn't think that through.

The dust settles again, and this time McAddam is simply standing a little to the side, his thick clothing slightly singed and wisps of smoke trailing from his body.

"Hoo, boy!" he says in an excited tone as he starts slowly moving towards us. "You might just be good 'nuff to gimme a nice fight!"

"Watch what you wish for!" Roy snaps his fingers again and his flame spears right down the hall and explodes.

This time, taking her opportunity, Riza darts towards Roy and grabs his other arm. He jumps in surprise and his head snaps around to look at her. "Wh-what?!"

"We have to keep moving, sir!" she says. "We don't have any time to waste here! And there isn't any possible way you can fight him if it comes to physical attacks! Just forget it!"

Roy's face slowly gains the look of a dawning realisation and his eyes narrow. "You're just trying to make me leave this guy without paying him back for what he did to you, aren't you?"

Riza hesitates. "Partially. But if he gets close enough, he could kill you."

The dust clears again and McAddam resumes his walk towards us, this time sporting charred sleeves and trousers. "C'mon now, z'at the best ya got?"

Roy rips his hand free of Riza's grip and shoots off another attack, shouting, "Not even close!"

This time his attack shoots down the hall with all the speed of lightning, and explodes with the force of several large bombs.

There isn't any way he could have survived that, is there? If he did, I'd be pretty darn–

"Surprised?" McAddam questions as he walks back out of the smoke and powdery dust.

Roy's eyes narrow. I don't know what it is he's looking at, but something that's obviously important's caught his eye.

"'Course y'are," McAddam states, continuing his slow advance on us. "Not used to havin' yer prey get away from ya, are ya?"

"Sir!" Riza says urgently, tugging on his shoulder.

"Just give me a minute, Lieutenant," Roy mumbles. "There's something…not right here."

"It's just that he's faster than your flames and he's gonna get us if we don't run!" I interject, adrenaline pumping through my veins at high speed. "Now come on!"

Roy motions slightly at the smoke and dust still billowing around just behind the rebel. "Look at that, Fullmetal. When have you ever seen dust act like that? It's flowing straight up into the air."

"That's 'cause it's smoke, dumbass! From your attack!"

"It's not," Roy says. "What's burning to create that smoke? All the residual traces should have faded by now. The only explanation is that it's not smoke or dust. He looks down at me. "That, Fullmetal, is steam."

"'Steam'?" I echo incredulously. "'_Steam'?! _Alright, bastard, you're delusional."

"No," Roy mutters. "I'm perfectly sane."

He grunts as he whips out his hand and snaps again, shattering the near-quiet that has taken over the corridor.

This time, however, he snaps again directly after the first blow. But there's something odd about his second flame; I think it might be the fact that it's not actually a flame.

It's a burst of alternated air pressure, I think. It blows away all the dust, smoke and apparent 'steam' with a loud _crack_, leaving McAddam in plain view.

Behind a wall of ice.

"Told you," Roy says to me. "Told you it was steam. He's an alchemist."

My jaw drops. "That idiot?!"

"_Never_ judge an enemy on appearances alone, Fullmetal. _Ever_."

Riza grabs Roy's arm again. "Okay, this makes the situation even worse. Come _now_, sir, before this escalates to something _none of us_ can handle."

"No!" Roy snaps. "I'm not letting him get away with this! Any of it! I'll make him pay for every blow he's dealt you!"

McAddam's wall sloshes away into a large puddle and he grins maliciously. "Ya discovered me secret. Well, that just makes it a whole lot more fun, don't it?"

There's about seven metres of space between us and the rebel, and he's finally stopped advancing this way.

"Go," Roy mutters.

"What?" I almost shout, and Shaydin shakes his head. I can see Riza's grip tighten around her superior's arm.

"Go, _now!" _Roy's hightened voice blasts at us. "I don't want you here for this!"

"Fat frikkin' chance, man!" I retort. "I'm staying right here!"

"I can't obey that order, sir," Riza says stubbornly. "It's overruled by the main mission orders, which include 'stick together'."

McAddam laughs. "Them's some loyal s'bordinates ya got there. And one of 'em's even mine!"

"Get _out_ of here! _Out!_ I'll catch up! I just don't want you _here_ to see this!" Roy almost roars at us, his shoulders twitching and jerking. I can see the distress clearly on his face; this is a battle he needs to fight without us, but knows he can't possibly win alone.

A right old conundrum, or so they say. I prefer to say 'the situation is f***** up'. Not in Al's presence, of course… He'd throw a fit.

Roy lets out a frustrated growl and flicks his head back to our opponent, telling us his plans remain solid. There's no way any of us can change his mind. Damn. Better come up with a plan…fast.

"Mustang, you'd better be careful if you wanna fight this," I say.

"He's not fighting this," growls Riza softly, tightening her grip and giving Roy's arm a sharp tug. "It's too risky! What are you two thinking?!"

Roy flinches in pain momentarily at this pull on his formerly dislocated arm before locking his gaze on McAddam. "Let's do this."

"Colonel! Don't you dare—"

"Lieutenant, no amount of common sense is ever going to talk me out of this."

Roy raises his hand once again, poised to snap, and I transmute my arm into a blade, ready to cover for him if he needs it.

I hope to whatever god is out there he doesn't.

"Lieutenant, Shaydin, Fullmetal, step back a little. I get the feeling these flames will be a little out of control," he says.

With one slight movement of his hand, the whole world shakes and roars again.

* * *

_I can win this_, I keep thinking to myself. _I can win this if I find the right strategy._

"'Zat all ya got?!" McAddam roars from behind another ice wall. "C'mon, c'mon!"

Alright. Just flaming him at random isn't going to work. I've got to figure something out. Okay, so, he's drawing that water from somewhere…but where?

I snap again, and the same thing happens. McAddam looks to be getting bored. I'd better think of something quick.

Okay, where in a place like this could you find water?

Air moisture? No, there's too little for what he's doing.

Melting snow? No, he couldn't get any inside here.

Puddles? No, the floor's dry.

_What else is there?!_

I jump slightly as a sudden realisation smashes it's way into my head.

_"Thanks for the save, Fullmetal…"_

_"Anytime. _Now _do you want some help?"_

Yes! That's it! That's just it!

"Get back!" I bark and the three behind me take a few steps backwards.

I snap out sideways to explode the pipe at the side of the corridor and water begins to trickle out of it and onto the floor.

Lucky. I got the right side, so the flow of water won't reach my adversary anymore.

The muscled man raises an eyebrow. "Now that makes it more challengin'."

"Okay. Come at me!" I shout, clicking and sending out another blast of fire. McAddam doesn't have as much water left to transmute, so I do a little more damage this time around. Good for me.

This time it's my turn to make advances. I stalk forward, snapping out flames as I go.

There's about four metres left between us when—

"I'mma gonna hafta up the ante here!" McAddam says, slapping the floor with his left hand (I catch a glimpse of a transmutation circle I'd missed before) and sending all the traces of water left surging at me.

Oh, my _GOD_, I hate water! Loathe it! Detest it! With every cell and fibre of my being!

My gloves are soaked through. Actually, my whole body is. Blah.

Now I'm wet, vulnerable and bloody well freezing.

"Tch!" I jump a couple of steps backwards, immediately on the defensive. I can't believe I fell for that!

McAddam rises again, a sinister grin covering his half-burnt face. "The tables have turned, Roy Mustang."

I bare my teeth, flicking my wrists vigorously as Riza shouts at me from behind. So he knows who I am.

"That is who y'are, innit?"

After he receives no response, McAddam continues. "I'd an inkling that you might be him after me men came back with tales of a flame-slinging soldier. And this confirms it all. There's the price for havin' such a reputation, Colonel."

McAddam strides forward, cracking his knuckles. "People can find yer weaknesses if they look hard enough."

I whirl around to shout, "Run! Run now! This is a direct, unrefusable, non-negotiable, _absolute_ order! If you do not obey, I'll court-martial you all!"

Riza shakes her head. "I told you, the main mission orders—"

"Shaydin!" I call sharply.

He nods and throws his hand around Riza's neck, effectively smothering her. "I am sorry, Miss Hawkeye…"

She just doesn't have the strength to fight back and few seconds later, he's choked Riza out and is supporting her full weight on his shoulder. There's the plus-side to being a medic - you know all the body's weakest points.

"Mr Elric! Help me get her out of here!"

"What?!" Edward exclaims. "No way! We can't leave Mustang here!"

"Non-negotiable, Fullmetal!" I yell. "It means _go! _Get Lieutenant Hawkeye somewhere safe! I'll catch up!"

"But—"

"No buts! I can handle myself! Shaydin can't! He needs you to get Hawkeye out! And besides, you're injured! You can't fight with that kind of wound on your leg! Both of you go! _Now!"_

Edward casts me a distraught glance, but takes Riza's arm and turns to run. "You'd better come back alive, bastard! _You'd better!"_

"Roger!" I call back, then raise my hands in a defensive position to guard against McAddam, even though there really isn't any point. He's going to thrash me.

"Commendable actions, Mustang," he says. "Commendable, but foolish. None of you'll make it out alive. It's four against a hundred and eighty. You don't got a prayer."

He obviously doesn't know about our reinforcements.

"Sorry," I reply evenly. "I'm not religious."

He lunges.

* * *

I pant as the exertion of bearing Riza's weight finally sets in and the adrenaline bursts through me. My leg burns furiously and blood sprays where we run. I can feel the bullet inside me.

It's not a nice sensation.

Terror zaps through my body as I think of what fate awaits Roy, and I try to shake the thoughts from my head and keep running.

We haven't encountered any other rebels; they must all be busy fighting of the soldiers.

My thoughts fly through my head fast and short, echoing my panicked psyche. Like this;

I can't believe it.

Roy's fighting that brute alone.

He's an idiot.

He's injured.

His gloves are soaked through.

He can't possibly win.

I should have stayed.

I'm an idiot.

What will I tell Al?

What will I tell Hughes?

What will I tell _Riza?_

This is my fault.

This is my fault.

_This is all my fault._

Roy's going to—

No. I don't allow myself to finish that last thought, persevering with the hope that Roy can somehow live to fight another day.

My lungs are burning now and I reckon I haven't got much energy left in me. I won't make it much further… But I've gotta try.

Shaydin directs us left and we burst through one more door out into the open. I survey the scene, panting and coughing heavily.

Most of the rebels are either lying on the ground staining the snow red with their blood or tied up with thick ropes and are being forced onto military trucks to be trialled and then imprisoned. Soldiers mill about, gathering up guns and the like.

One figure breaks away from the crowd and runs towards us. It's Maes Hughes, I can tell even from this distance. I try to wipe the slick red liquid off my hands as he runs over.

He skids to a halt before us, his yellow-green eyes wide and startled behind his glasses. "H-hey! What on earth happened?!"

"Decided…to escape…bored…waiting…" I pant, letting Maes take Riza's weight off me and Shaydin. He lays her on the snow and looks up at me. "Where's Roy?"

Shaydin doubles over and collapses on the snow, wheezing and clutching his chest. He's not built for this kind of thing; his body isn't strong.

"Mustang…still fighting…big muscle-guy… Wouldn't let us…stay… Find him…really fast… He'll get killed…" I manage between huffs, waving my hand in the direction of the building we just escaped from and leaning over as a hacking fit of coughs ensnares me. "Go…! Quickly…! Somebody…help him!"

"And he calls _me_ a fool…!" Maes grips the gun in his hand and glances about, then makes a break for the building at a sprint.

"W…wait!" I shout. "You won't be able to…"

But he's already gone, and the exhaustion and stress of the last few weeks finally kicks in. And the blood loss. Not again…

I feel myself slipping and then the world finally tips sideways.

Looking back, I've hardly slept and been beaten up repeatedly, and am probably malnourished now. I think it's okay…

Besides, the snow is…so soft.

* * *

I spit blood onto the concrete where it mingles with the cold water that reflects my scratched and bruised face.

A blade transmuted from ice, now there's an original idea. He sliced me right in the side, and now I'm literally gushing blood.

It hurts so bad. And I'm freezing to death. I don't think I'm gonna make it out of this one…

McAddam moves in again, his body still burnt in several places from my flames, and raises his fist. He's staggering - good. Means I managed to pay him back.

The world goes black and white briefly before the pain hits and I'm skidding across the floor. Ow…

I struggle into a sitting position and attempt to stand up again, but my strength is fading fast and my arms give out.

I sigh.

This is it. I'm going to die here. There isn't even time for me to write a will, or tell someone my dying wishes or something.

"Any last words, dog?"

I ponder this quietly. Well, as best I can, anyway. My brain's a little bit disjointed and out of it.

"Yeah, I s'pose," I manage to say.

"Let's hear 'em, then."

I take a deep, shaky breath and cough, sending more blood down my chest. I just don't care now. I'm so covered in it, it doesn't matter anymore.

"Lemme think for a sec," I slur helplessly, closing my eyes to try and gather my thoughts. I try to think of all my dreams and hopes, all the people I love. Was there anything I wanted to do? Anything I wanted to say to them?

Nothing's coming. Oh! Wait… _Wait… _No. Never mind.

"I… Oh, tell…tell Riza… No, tell _everyone_…" I trail off, my breath coming at short, difficult intervals.

I might actually die before I can say anything.

"Just…" I twitch my shoulders in an attempted shrug, almost smiling. "I got nothin'. Just…nothin'."

McAddam laughs throatily, throwing his head back. "Well then, ya mangy mutt, yer time's come! Get ready to meet yer maker!"

I don't bother pointing out again that I don't believe in the afterlife. As depressing as it is, when I die, I die. I'm just gone.

He swings his fist back for the final blow. "Die," he says softly.

I can already feel the world fading away by this stage, and my vision is swimming with black spots. The pain is disappearing. Actually, all sensation is disappearing - the tiredness, the cold, the dampness, everything.

Bye, everyone.

Maes, I'm sorry I couldn't celebrate your daughter's birthdays with you.

Riza, I'm sorry I didn't live to see our goal fulfilled.

Edward, I'm sorry I couldn't help you out more than I did.

Alphonse, I'm sorry I never got to take you to that restaurant like I said we should after you got your body back.

Havoc, I'm sorry for stealing all your girls.

Breda, I'm sorry I hid all your food that one time and blamed it on Fuery.

Fuery, I'm sorry for that too.

Falman, I'm sorry I snuck all that paperwork into your pile…

I don't know how long I go on like this, and I manage to catch one fleeting glance of the world before everything fades into darkness. Although, I think I must be delirious because what I see doesn't make any sense;

McAddam, lying on the ground in a pool of red blood, a small triangular throwing knife stuck neatly into the back of his neck.

* * *

"Roy! Roy! Are you okay?!" I shout, holstering my remaining knives and running forwards. I rip the bloodied weapon from the dead man's neck as I kneel down in front of my best friend, trying to assess the situation. His skin is ice-cold to touch and he's not conscious.

"Oh, dammit Roy, how'd you manage to get yourself into this mess…?" I hiss under my breath as I check him for wounds. I give up on this because there are just too many.

There are bruises and scratches covering every inch of skin, I think his ribs are broken, and his wrist's in a makeshift splint. There are several tears in his uniform that look to me like points where bullets have entered, but upon inspection I find they've already been treated. His leg's bleeding heavily and there's more red seeping from his lips.

But how's there so much blo… Okay, that's a big wound, yes, that's a very big wound. I pray to God that hasn't hit anything important.

There's a deep, rough gash on his side, seeping blood and everything. Dammit, dammit, _dammit_, I should've come faster! How the _hell_ am I supposed to treat something like this?

Should I leave him here and come back with more guys? But he mightn't make it by then… I gotta do something _now!_ But what?!

I rub my forehead with my hand, growling under my breath. I don't want to try and pick him up, in case I risk doing more damage, but running back to get some help would take too long.

_What do I do?!_

He's going to die if I don't figure something out real fast.

"Hey! Hughes!"

I jump, startled. I throw a glance over my shoulder and let out a sigh of relief. It's Jean Havoc and Heymans Breda, quickly followed by Kain Fuery. I could die for the sudden rush of joy. But there's no time for dying now.

Excepting Roy, of course, because he's kinda, y'know… Ah, forget it!

I motion them over, shouting, "Did you bring bandages or a stretcher or something?! There's no way we can get him out of here like this!"

"Yeah, we did!" Jean calls back, charging forward. "Fuery has them! There was this guy with black hair and glasses, and he told us to bring a stretcher and medical equipment!"

"Well, whoever he was, he just saved the Colonel's life," I respond. "Hand it here!"

"Here you go," Kain tosses me a thick roll of nice white bandages for me to cover with blood. "Is that all you need?"

"That'll be fine."

Jean looks over my shoulder worriedly. "Can't you do something more?"

"For now, that's all I can do! None of us have enough medical know-how for this!" I snap back, trying as best I can to staunch the bleeding.

Jean reaches for his pocket and Heymans slaps his hand. "Don't light one of those now! Can't you see what's going on here?!"

"I can't help it!" he protests. "It's a nervous habit!"

"It's an everything habit!" Heymans retorts. "You smoke when you're nervous, happy, angry, excited, depressed, _everything!"_

"So what?! You eat all the time!"

"Both of you shut up!" I bark irritatedly. "This isn't the time for bickering!"

We move on in silence, all of us trying to pitch in as best we can here. We can't have Roy dying on us; not just because he's our superior officer, but because he's our friend.

Although we mightn't act like it most of the time, all of us are a pretty close bunch, despite all the fighting and teasing. To lose one of us would be like the great metaphorical creature that is our platoon losing a limb - and to lose Roy would be like that creature losing it's head.

We all look out for our friends as if they were our own family; that's why Roy picked us. And we've got go through with that by doing all we can to help each other.

"C'mon, Roy…" I mutter, pulling tight a bandage with my teeth as I hold the other end with one hand and press it against his arm with my other. "Don't you _dare_ die…"

Together, we manage to stop most of the bleeding and shift him carefully onto the stretcher. Heymans takes one end and Jean the other, giving me opportunity to gently tug Roy's gloves off.

His fingers twitch.

"Give'm back…tha's…my secret…" he slurs, one heavy-lidded eye opening slightly.

"Hey, now," I murmur. "Calm down; it's just me."

"…Maes…?"

"Mm-hm. Don't worry, we're getting you somewhere safe."

"Right!" Jean says with a grin. "Don't worry 'bout a thing, Colonel!"

Roy's bloodied mouth curves up in a slight smirk. "…right…"

He's slipped away again, and I direct the guys back out the way we came in. My observational streak has come in handy again - I managed to find Roy by following the trail of blood Edward left as he ran out. As we make our way outside, several officers and medics dash forward and take Roy from us.

I flop down onto the snow weakly with a shaky breath and Kain follows.

He places his forehead between his knees and mumbles, "There's more blood on the Colonel than I've ever seen in one place…"

I nod. "Yeah. He's hurt pretty bad."

"But he'll be okay now, won't he?" Jean says quietly. "I mean, there's about a hundred doctors on him."

"He's not outta the woods yet," I tell him. "That wound on his side's pretty severe. There's always the chance he won't…"

I trail off.

We sit in silence for a minute before I cast a glance upwards. My gaze rakes the scene before us and settles on a tiny, forgotten patch of the area, just in front of a small grove of trees.

I rise to my feet and make my way over, wandering through dozens of meandering soldiers packing rebels onto trucks.

The others look up too and then decide to follow me, having nothing better to do. The four people my eyes have settled on are Edward, Riza, the young ex-rebel who helped them and a female Central City medic, who's helping see to their treatment.

Both of them are out cold on the ground, lying on blankets as they're checked for injuries. This is the first time I can get a proper look at them, and although they've been cleaned up, they're still looking pretty rough.

Edward's hair is messy and dirty, smeared with dirt to match his skin and clothes. The blanket he's lying on is thoroughly soaked with blood, and the Central medic is binding his leg thickly. There are countless bruises covering his skin and he looks completely and utterly beat.

Riza's in pretty much the same condition, apart from looking a little more rested and the splint on her leg.

"Hey," I say wearily, giving a wave. The ex-rebel doesn't cast us a glance before he says, "I have told you soldiers a hundred times over! They just need space so they can recouperate! There is nothing you can do, I can handle this without your hel—"

He looks back and stops, letting out a quiet exclamation of surprise. "Oh! It is you! Forgive my boldness!"

Jean, Heymans and Kain walk up behind me.

"Hey!" Jean says. "It's the chief! Is he okay? And the Lieutenant?"

"Mr Elric and Miss Hawkeye are both doing well," the medic tells him. "Mr Elric has been shot in quite a troublesome place, however, and if he had come out even seconds later, he might have dropped for blood loss. They are exhausted, though, and have acquired several small injuries."

I settle myself on the snow, shivering a little, and pull my coat closer around my shoulders. The rest copy, and now we're all gathered in a little semi-circle around Riza, Edward and the two medics.

"So," I say. "What's your name anyways?"

"Shaydin Mackenzie, medic. I was the one who sent the S. O. S. message in your soldiers' place," he explains. "I was responsible for treating their injuries whilst they were being held captive."

"And he was the one who told us we needed to go help you and bring Roy a stretcher," Heymans adds.

I look from the ginger-haired officer back to Shaydin. "Well then, thanks." I bow my head in his direction and say, "You saved Roy's life. We're in your debt."

Kain nods and Jean follows suit whilst Heymans shakes the young man's hand. He looks surprised and relieved at the same time.

"That was very brave of you," I say. "Risking your own neck to send that message. Why did you do it?"

Shaydin shrugs. "I…I do not really know… I suppose it was because I could no longer stand the horrible things this rebel party was doing, so I just… It was really nothing."

I grin. "No, it was awesome. Thanks a tonne. We got the Colonel, Lieutenant Hawkeye and Ed back all thanks to you. Alphonse is going to want to thank you as well."

"Alphonse?"

"His lil' bro," Heymans explains. "He's been real worried about him."

A small movement on Edward's part catches my eye. His mouth twists into a soft smile as he murmurs Alphonse's name and shifts his head ever-so-slightly.

"Two of the closest brothers on the planet, I think," Jean reckons.

A thought hits me and I nod. "Yes, they are. You know, if Elysia ever has a sibling, I want them to be that close."

Three pairs of horrified eyes land on me and the medic checking Riza for any untreated injuries stops dead.

"H-Hughes…" Jean's voice cuts out and he starts again. "Hughes, don't ever have another child. Ever. We can barely handle all the photos of Elysia as it is."

"Who is Elysia?" Shaydin asks, slightly puzzled.

There's a burst of groans from everyone and I let out a laugh. "'Who is Elysia', he says… She's my adorable little daughter, of course!"

I sit up straight and reach inside my coat for my pocket and fish out the family photo I keep stored there. I hand it to Shaydin, saying, "Here's a picture! That's me, Elysia and my beautiful wife Gracia!"

Shaydin hands it back to me. "She is very cute."

"Isn't she?" I respond with an airy laugh and tuck the photo away again. "She's the best little daughter any man could wish for!"

"Watch out, he's crazy!" Heymans hisses at Shaydin.

"Crazy for Elysia! And Gracia!" I tell them, twisting around on the spot in an effort to contain my own excitement. I want to just explode and tell the young medic all about my family, but I'm trying to hold back. I don't want to freak him out after everything he's done for us. "They are perfect!"

Shaydin smiles. "You must care very much for them."

"Mm-hm!" I respond, grinning as I look away into the distance and imagine Elysia hugging me as she welcomes her daddy back home again. I'm going to tickle her so much. "More than anything in the world!"

"More than his work, at least," Jean puts in. "Half of Amestris' bills are probably just for the amount of electricity he uses to phone us all and talk about his family! And _then_ there's the pictures!"

"What's wrong with the pictures?" I say, scowling. "They're a nice break from all the boring old paperwork we have to do! My photos are just great. Speaking of which…"

"Please don't tell me…" Kain starts weakly.

I rummage around a little deeper in my pockets and pull out a tiny stack of photos. "I have some right here!"

"Okay!" the Central medic exclaims, sounding panicky. "These two should be fine, they'll just need a week or so in hospital! You take it from here, Shaydin, goodbye!"

She sprints away.

"Well, she's missing out," I say as I watch her retreating back. I proceed to show the remaining people all the photos I brought, all of them apart from me totally oblivious to the fact that the only reason I'm showing them these photos is to take their minds off Roy's predicament.

Another use for the miracle that is my photos of Elysia and Gracia. I'm glad I have this skill of cheering them all up; it makes me feel happy myself. That's just one of my various odd skills and talents.

I just hope Roy's okay.

* * *

"…u…id…o…er… Stupi…ther… Stupid brother!"

H…huh…? Where…am I…? Why…can I hear…Al? Al… Alphonse… Yes. Al. Alphonse. Alphonse… Alphonse!

I snap awake, opening my eyes on stupidly bright light.

"…ow…! Stupid…shiny… Hurts…!" I mumble, closing them again.

"Brother?! A-are you…?!"

"Nn…Al? 'Syou? Where 'mai?" I lick my lips, smelling disinfectant. This is a hospital.

"Yeah, it's me. You're in Central City Hospital. Don't flip out; you'll only hurt yourself."

"Wh…wh'appened?" I slowly open one eye and then the other, allowing the world to align itself and stop being a smudgy mess. "'Ow long's I out?"

"A few days. From what I've been told, you, Lieutenant Hawkeye and another man had barely escaped from the rebel's headquarters. You burst out the front door, injured, and Lieutenant Hawkeye was unconscious. Lieutenant Colonel Hughes met you, and you told him to go find Colonel Mustang before you just…collapsed."

"Hn. Well, that's embarrassing," I mutter groggily, rubbing my eyes and glaring at the drip stuck in my flesh arm. Ugh. That's… That's just… Ugh.

It takes a few seconds for everything to sink in.

"Wait, is the Colonel still alive?!" I exclaim, my heart jumping inside my chest. "Did Hughes get there in time?!"

Alphonse hesitates. "Yeah, he's still alive…"

A small fuzz of relief loosens my chest a little, but the pressing anxiety remains. "Is he okay…?"

"He's…" Alphonse trails off. His eyes flick to the right. I follow his gaze.

I actually didn't know it was possible for a person to look so…_hospitalified_. He's practically plastered in bandages, all over his arms and across his forehead, several plasters on his cheeks and chin, and his right wrist is tightly bound in a cast. I can't see anywhere from the chest down, but it looks like he's got about _twenty_ needles in his arms. Okay, I exaggerated. There are two needles in his arm. Which, in my experience, is a lot.

But that's beside the point.

"He's hurt really bad," Alphonse murmured. "They thought he was going to die at first, but he pulled through."

"How'd we get here?" I ask quietly. "And where's the Lieutenant?"

"Lieutenant Hawkeye's a room down. She's fine - just a little battered," Alphonse assured his brother. "First off they took you to a little hospital up north, and after they treated you and everything was stabilised they managed to transfer you to here."

"Oh." I let out a yawn, almost not believing how fantastically tired I am. "And what about Shaydin? The guy we were with?"

"He saved all of your lives," Alphonse said admiringly. "He told Mustang's men where they needed to go and everything. He's here at the hospital."

"What? Did something happen to him?"

"No," Alphonse answers. "He's working here. They hired him almost as soon as he got here because of how well he treated you three."

"Oh."

I yawn again, pulling aside the sheets of the bed to see my leg. It's probably twice as thick around because of the bandages, and I can hardly move it.

"I…I got shot, didn't I?" I mumble confusedly, feeling around the area tenderly.

"Don't touch it," Alphonse scolds. "You got hit in a very sensitive spot. Be careful."

"Yeah, I know. I bled out pretty damn fast."

Alphonse looks back at the door. "You say it like it's no big deal… Brother, you could have actually died out there…"

"I know," I respond softly. "I know…"

"I was scared, brother," Alphonse murmured. "I thought you were dead when they brought you in here."

"I thought I was dead as well," I tell him. "I knew exactly where that bullet hit. I was pretty…" I let out a mirthless laugh and go on to admit, "…I was pretty terrified too…"

We fall silent.

"So what'd they do to him?" I nod in Roy's direction. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"It's hard to tell. They're pretty sure he's going to live, though," Alphonse explains. "He got cut deep in the side, but it missed his vital organs. Two of his ribs and his right wrist are broken."

"Yeah, that happened during our first encounter with the rebels. Except the cut. That must've happened when he used himself as a decoy so we could get away…"

"There are a few bullet wounds on him as well, but they've mostly healed already," Alphonse continued. "And apart from that, it's just bruises and scratches."

"Alright then. And Riza's okay?"

"Yeah. She's got a broken ankle and there are a few bad scratches on her, but that's about it. Excepting all the horrible bruises she has."

"That's good."

"Yeah."

Yeah…

"Bro?"

"Hnyuh?" I flick my head back up, not having noticed I was about to fall asleep there. "Whassa…?"

"Never mind," Alphonse says dismissively. "Just try to rest for a while. The faster you get better, the faster you can leave. And to get better fast, you need to rest. So do that."

"'Kay," I mumble. "Will do."

"Good. I'll be around if you need me. And by the way, I found another lead while you were away. Just so you…"

"Mhm…" My head lolls forward and Alphonse's voice fades into the background.

* * *

"And next time it ever comes to a situation where our lives are at stake, don't ever issue an order like that!"

I nod a little. "Yes, I'll try to avoid it."

"Glad you understand," Riza says sternly from the wheelchair she's sitting in. "So don't ever do that again."

"Remember, Lieutenant, I'm still your superior. I have the highest level of authority on missions like that. If it preserves the life of the mission, it's necessary."

"Is it necessary if it means you die and leave your subordinates alone and vulnerable?"

"But I didn't. There were reinforcements there. And it turned out fine, didn't it?"

"Next time we mightn't be so lucky. You were minutes away from losing your life, sir. You can't keep taking that risk."

"But if you'd have stayed, who's to say we all might've have died? If Edward hadn't gotten that message out there, we'd all have been done for. Not even the four of us could have taken that monster."

"Ah, both of you shut up," Edward interjects lazily, cutting into our debate. He's sitting on his bed, a book resting on his lap and a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. "Your constant droning's getting annoying."

I look enviously at the food, scowling. I'm not allowed anything for at least another day yet and it's starting to drive me nuts.

It's been roughly a week since the incident up north drew to a dramatic end, and Edward gets more fidgety by the second. This is the first time Riza's been allowed to come in talk to us, and I tell you, I've copped a right earful.

I thought Edward's threats were bad. He did pretty much the same thing as soon as I'd come to - well, as soon as my brain was working well enough to comprehend the stuff coming out of his mouth.

There was a brief period where I was totally out of it, drifting aimlessly through a slight wakefulness tainted by exhaustion, blood loss and medication.

I swear, during that time I really thought Edward was a little girl who was looking for her lost zebra.

I settle myself into the strangely comfortable bed, looking out the window at my bedside.

"Alright. I'll admit my decision was a risk-"

I give the other two a second to absorb their half-victory.

"-but what else was there to do? And frankly, I'm just glad you two are both still alive."

Riza follows my gaze. "Yes, but…"

"No, 'but's, Lieutenant," I cut in. "My decision was risky, but it kept us alive. That's all there is to it."

Edward looks up from his book and over at me. I can't place the expression on his face, and all he says is, "Well, thanks."

"Don't expect me to save your butt again though, Fullmetal," I say loftily. "Learn to look out for yourself already, would you? I'm tired of acting as your babysitter."

"Look, I've shown you my gratitude, either take it or leave it!" he snaps grumpily.

I smirk a little. "You're welcome."

There's a short, peaceful silence that's interrupted by a loud, startling—

"Yo!"

"Good morning, Hughes," I mutter begrudgingly - he's got food too. I want some.

"Aw, is that any way to treat the man who saved your butt just the other day?" Maes complains, striding forward and tossing the last of his toast in his mouth and staring pointedly in my direction.

"So, is there any particular reason you came here?" I grumble, flicking my good wrist at him. "Or are you just here to rub in my face the fact that I can't eat yet?"

He feigns an apologetic expression and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Oh, sorry, Colonel! I had no idea!"

"'Course not," I snort sarcastically.

"If I'd known, I wouldn't have brought all this food!" Maes settles himself on one of the little stools directly opposite. He pulls out a large chicken sandwich and munches on it, conversationally adding, "How's the weather?"

My stomach growls loudly and I tug on the bandages around my forehead. "Do you have to eat here?"

"I haven't even had my lunch break yet!" he protests over Edward's snickering. "I'm starved!"

I stare lasers across the room at him. Sometimes, I don't know why he's my friend. I don't even know why I bother to put up with him. He's annoying, loud, never does his work and won't stop talking about his family. He drives me nuts.

"And it's my way of making sure you don't do anything that stupid ever again."

Oh, right. That's why I'm friends with him. Because he looks out for me.

"Okay. I promise I won't."

Maes takes another bite of his sandwich. "By the way, that doesn't mean I'm gonna stop eating. I'm starved."

My stomach growls again, louder this time.

Edward's snickering grows louder and he's completely abandoned all efforts to hide it, openly mocking the fact that he has food and I don't.

That's the problem with all my supporters; they come with a price. They annoy me to no end, but I put up with them anyway.

We're a little pack of animals, watching one another's backs and fighting for our cause and survival. It's almost a good feeling, knowing there are people who are there to back me up now.

I kinda like it.

My gaze shifts from Maes to Edward, and I remember something. Although I've got my team to fall back on, Edward doesn't. I sort of need to figure something out…

Ah. I'll back him up, wherever I can. I don't want to risk that last escapade ever recurring.

Ever.

Edward's just too important to m…military benefits. This is nothing personal; he's just important to the military. That's all.

* * *

Three weeks later, a certain raven-haired colonel was roaming the streets of East City on his seemingly once-in-a-decade-event day off, when he spotted something that made him feel just a little bit happier;

A familiar looking medic, a little black-blue haired girl riding on his shoulders and an older woman by his side. All three were smiling, and none seemed to notice the man standing there as they passed by.

Roy smirked to himself. _Pack animals_, he thought. _Humans are pack animals._

* * *

**THE END!**

**Did you enjoy it? I ****_loved _****writing it. However, it escalated to an almost ridiculous length (as you can see) so I decided to post it under it's own name.**

**Please review, they are appreciated beyond belief and I love them all (even the flames - I've never had one, but I'd probably take it as a compliment if I did).**

**Thanks for reading!**


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